


The Last Bit of Light

by lyriumsaber



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Angst, F/M, Force-Sensitive Finn (Star Wars), Kylo Ren Being a Little Shit, Kylo Ren Needs a Hug, Lovers To Enemies, Major Original Character(s), Nice Armitage Hux, OC is Kylo's apprentice wow what a fun time, Original Character(s), Original Character-centric, POV Third Person, Poe Dameron Is A Mess, Rey is Trying her Best, Slow Burn, idiots to lovers, will deviate from canon eventually
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-08-27
Updated: 2020-12-14
Packaged: 2021-03-06 22:46:47
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 5
Words: 20,890
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26136733
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lyriumsaber/pseuds/lyriumsaber
Summary: She had planned to live and die unremarkably. But the galaxy didn't care about what people wanted, least of all Brynne Varel.Alternatively, the one where a woman with no reason to be in the center of galactic conflict does exactly that.
Relationships: Ben Solo | Kylo Ren/Original Character(s), Ben Solo | Kylo Ren/Original Female Character(s), Finn/Rose Tico, Kylo Ren/Original Character(s), Kylo Ren/Original Female Character(s), Poe Dameron/Original Character(s), Poe Dameron/Original Female Character(s)
Comments: 2
Kudos: 11





	1. Prologue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Brynne Varel has always made note of the moments in her life that changed who she was. None would be as formative as the one time she needed saving from those who were the least likely to provide it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the story of a woman who finds herself in the center of something she should have never been involved in. While she may find love and instances of happiness along the way, this is not a love story. This will exist in five acts: the year or so before the sequels, The Force Awakens, The Last Jedi, The Rise of Skywalker, and the months that follow. I hope you enjoy!

**There have been** a handful ( _too many_ ) of moments in Brynne Varel’s life where she felt her world come to a standstill, anticipating the inevitable shift to her future that the consequences would undoubtedly bring. 

The first of many times occurred when she was about seven years old, and her older brother, Decan, dared her to swipe a small, carved trinket of a Gungan from a stall in the capital city’s marketplace. Being ten years her senior and almost an adult himself, he knew better.

But Brynne also knew better. And despite this, she attempted to distract the old woman (quite poorly, if she had to be honest) who was selling her wares, while sneaking the carving from the shelf and hiding it behind her back. 

She had half a mind to run off when the woman asked her what she was doing and demanded for her to put it back, but she froze. Decan saved the day, as he always did — despite being the one to put her in the predicament — and took her home after paying for the trinket. 

He still has it somewhere in his home away from the family’s shop, but Brynne would be perfectly content if she never had to see it again.

 **The second time** would be when Brynne found herself walking along a riverbank outside of Theed at nineteen years old. Some days were easier than others to pretend that her family could afford to make ends meet while living in the capital city. This was not one of those days. 

Having just argued with her mother about eventually taking over her family’s shop when she came of age, optimistically assuming the dwindling business would even make it that far, she found herself drawn to the soothing sounds of the water far beyond the bustle of the city. 

Decan had plans of his own, wanting to run a spot on the opposite end of the city to sell different dishes and employ those in need of a fresh start. The shop was supposed to be _his_ responsibility, as he was beginning to push thirty, but she couldn’t fault him for wanting something more than whatever another fifty years of running a basic wares shop could offer. 

Even if he _was_ in charge of a glorified cantina. 

Still, the responsibility rested on her shoulders, as it always seemed to. Her elder sister, Cora, had already married and moved elsewhere in the city. She was next in line to have the business pushed onto her, and as much as she had hoped the galaxy had more planned for her, the chances of that appeared to be getting slimmer each and every day.

The thought of handing off the responsibility to her younger sister, Lyka, had crossed her mind more than she liked to admit. Still, as much as Lyka loved working in the family’s shop, Brynne felt guilty refusing the legacy her family had fought to keep alive over the years.

Exhaling loudly, she kicked a few rocks as she followed the path of the river that led to nowhere in particular. 

Brynne hadn’t been able to sleep well the night before, not that it was anything new. Sometimes there were nightmares. Other times it felt as if there were a thousand people pounding against her skull, each shouting at once and refusing to take turns speaking.

She liked to pass it off as just another night on an uncomfortable cot, with the noise of the city keeping her up as it always did. Perhaps it was stress, or her subconscious grappling with the heavy weight of deciding her future. She lived a rather unremarkable life, as most non-royalty in the city did, and as the years went on she expected it to stay that way.

As she continued her trek along the side of the babbling water, the bottom of her dress caught onto a stray branch, and began to rip at the seam.

The Varel’s didn’t have much in the way of finances, and Brynne didn’t have much in the way of clothing that actually made her feel good about herself.

So, when she noticed the growing hole in the delicate pale-pink fabric, she reached down without hesitation, snapped the twig in half, and tossed the pieces into the river with a yell.

Though, the pieces didn’t make it into the water right away. 

Her right hand, stuck out in front of her, never moved as she stared at the floating branch. As her hand began to shake and her frustration started to waver, the branch pieces followed suit. 

She inhaled sharply as her hand dropped to her side, and with it, the pieces fell into the water with a satisfying _plop._

She slept considerably worse from that night onward.

 **The third time** Brynne felt her world shift was when her father passed two years later. 

There wasn’t much to say about it. He fell ill, and regardless of what her mother did or medicines she bought, he couldn’t be nursed back to health.

Things weren’t the same once he died. The obvious setback of losing a family member and key employee at the family’s shop aside, there was a sense of light missing from the Varel home. Laughter wasn’t as loud, smiles weren’t as bright, the sun wasn’t as warm when it came in through the windows, the nights felt colder, and the home was quieter. 

The voices that festered in Brynne’s dreams fell silent for a short period. She would have mistaken it for peace had she not known better.

When inquired, anyone who was asked would share the same sentiment: when Jarrik Varel passed, a piece of his daughter, Brynne, went with him.

 **The fourth time** the consequences of her actions cemented her future into place occurred not long after Brynne’s twenty fourth birthday. Life had fallen into a monotonous routine in the years prior, as far as she was concerned. 

One of the only bits of life that always remained interesting was Brynne’s newfound hobby of moving small objects around her room by just barely lifting a finger. Curiosity may have gotten the best of her one too many times, but she knew it was safest and in her best interest to stick to moving small things in her own space. She’d managed to keep whatever these abilities were a secret for this long — it would be a shame to have all of that effort go to waste simply because she wanted to see if she could move her bed or one of the shop’s shelves.

So, instead, she stuck to the small trinkets that were placed across her bedroom.

The nights were harder for Brynne these days. Insomnia and whispers that plagued her mind paired with her own thoughts that begged to know if there was more that she could have done for her father.

She didn’t sleep well this night in particular, more so than usual. 

No, instead of a blissful dream-filled rest when she closed her eyes (something that was all too rare in her life to begin with), she was greeted by the infinite darkness that tended to permeate her sleepy subconscious. But for the first time, the voices had stopped yelling over each other.

Instead there was one. And with that one voice came promises of something invaluable. Promises of protecting her loved ones, a way out of her boring routine, a means of learning who she is and what she is meant to be. 

_A purpose._

And it was selfish, of course, but who would she be to say no to such a gracious offer?

 **The fifth time** was when she found herself walking alongside a stormtrooper down a long, dark corridor. 

Her thoughts raced, experimenting with ways she could backpedal out of this and be sent on the soonest transport back to Naboo, assuming she wasn’t executed on the spot. Out of her peripheral vision, she sized up the trooper that guided her. She wasn’t too familiar with blasters, but she could take him, right?

The stormtrooper guided her into perhaps the largest chamber she had ever seen. She had never witnessed so much _red._ Intense and hard to look at, the walls disguised several faceless figures. Brynne wasn’t sure if she could take down a stormtrooper, but she was certain those guards wouldn’t hesitate to paint the walls with her blood before she even had a chance to run toward the door.

In hindsight, this wasn’t what she had expected when she was promised a new start. Thoughts of " _what did I get myself into?"_ and " _am_ _I swearing allegiance to the First Order?"_ rang loudly in her mind. Her family had done well at avoiding the galactic conflict, surviving in the spaces in between the fights and politics, but it was too late to go back now.

Her head began to hurt in a way that was all too familiar.

She had never seen him before, but she knew deep down that the man, creature, _thing_ who sat on the throne that seemed miles away from where she stood, was the same one who had made a home in the back of her mind in the months prior. The guards that surrounded him watched her carefully. Somehow, their spear-like weapons were more menacing than the blaster that had been pointed to her side as she walked alongside the stormtrooper.  
  
Exhaling a breath she hadn’t realized she was holding, her eyes drifted across the room until they rested upon a cloaked figure kneeling on the ground several strides in front of her, as if the man, creature, _thing_ was a holy figure to be revered.

Stepping forward, Brynne’s footsteps echoed throughout the large chamber as the throned figure called to her. “I’ve been anticipating your arrival for quite some time, _Miss Varel_.” He stands, golden robes gliding across the floor as he watches her carefully.

“ _Supreme Leader Snoke, I’m still not certain this_ —" The deep, distorted voice is not given the opportunity to finish voicing his concerns.

Instead, the Supreme Leader immediately snaps his attention to the kneeling man. “ _Enough!_ ” He slowly turns his head back to Brynne, and she feels a chill run down her spine. “The matter has already been decided.” He raises his hand, beckoning Brynne to meet him at his throne. “Closer,” he sits before resuming his cold, scolding glare at the man. “Remove that monstrosity, it's ridiculous.”

The masked man hesitates for a moment, but pulls his hood down with one of his gloved hands. The mask hisses as he lifts it from his head, placing it gently on the ground in front of him. He's careful not to look at Supreme Leader Snoke immediately after. Brynne briefly breaks her eye contact with Snoke to spare a glance to the man, noticing him swallowing hard.

He was scared. Or angry. Possibly _both_? Any hints of emotion disappear from his face when he meets Brynne’s eyes quickly, before returning Snoke's cold stare.  
  
And though he tried to hide it (and often succeeded, as she would soon learn), Brynne could tell that the Supreme Leader had hardly been a savior to the man. Snoke had a tight, unrelenting hold on him, that much was clear.

She inhaled deeply, walking past Kylo Ren, Commander of the First Order. She didn’t need an introduction to know the rumors and the reputation that were spoken of whenever his name was whispered in the streets back on her home planet.  
  
If no one in this room killed her, Brynne was positive that her mother was going to once she found out exactly what her daughter had gotten involved with when she said she was leaving Naboo.

 **There were other** instances that passed by in the year that followed that, at the moment, Brynne thought had the opportunity to be life-changing.

Creating one of the fabled lightsabers, all for herself. The first sparring match where her Commander allowed Brynne to use her lightsaber against his own, proving to be a fair opponent against its corruption. A different sparring match, out in the snowy forest that surrounded Starkiller Base when Kylo Ren pushed her a bit too far, and for the first time she noticed a glint of genuine worry in his eyes. The few times with the General where she mistook his ultimate care for the Supreme Leader’s plans, as care for _her_ and the friendship they forged. The times when her Commander forgot she was supposed to be a means to an end. The times spent chatting with Brynne after meetings, when General Hux forgot she was a weapon to be forged and used against the Resistance. The first time she had gotten a full night’s rest in well over a decade, because apparently the higher ups in the First Order were given nicer beds than someone of her rank. The times that followed, when she discretely visited the quarters. The times when she allowed herself to forget the mess she had entered into, and pretended she wasn’t part of the _First Order_ , of all things.

Each were important moments in their own right, but they paled in comparison to the sixth time Brynne’s life changed, when her ears wouldn’t stop ringing and she couldn’t lift her head and her voice was hardly more than a whisper and all she saw was wet, glistening red — _"oh God, is that my blood, or_ _someone else’s?"_

It was _never_ supposed to be like this.

It took every last ounce of energy in Brynne’s tired body for her to tap against the cool metal of her lightsaber’s silver hilt with the blistered and burnt pads of her fingertips. There was a job to do, a battle to fight, intel to receive — she _needed_ to get up, to find him, _to help them_ —

Her eyelids fluttered as she took in the scene around her. The small, lush and vibrant village they had landed outside of just hours before was now unrecognizable among the embers and debris that surrounded where she laid. As the smoke and ash filled the air, she began to cough as she struggled to lift herself from where she laid in the dirt.

The roar of an engine coaxed Brynne out of her drowsy state. Brows furrowing, causing the gash between them to reopen against the dried blood, she watched as the familiar ship returned to its home among the stars.

She wasn’t sure how long she watched the sky, hoping for someone to return, before she realized it was _always_ supposed to be like this.

And while there would undoubtedly be more moments in which Brynne would feel her world change, none of them would be as formative as the time she needed saving from those who were least likely to give it.

In that moment, Brynne Varel silently vowed to herself to do what she could to put an end to the First Order’s terror upon the galaxy.  
  
Luckily, Leia Organa had a good feeling about her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's been a long time since I've written anything and published it for others to read. I've got a lot planned for this, so I'm excited to see where this story goes! It may deviate from canon at times, but I intend for it to follow the canon storyline as closely as possible. I'll try to update once or twice a week. Not sure which days, but we'll figure it out as we go!


	2. Should She Be So Lucky

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> PART ONE: "There has been an awakening, have you felt it?"  
> \--  
> An unsettling chuckle reverberates through her mind. “I am extending my offer, once more. I have ordered for a transport to bring you to us tomorrow evening. This is the final time I will ask you to make a decision,” as if it were never there to begin with, the pain behind her eyes leaves in waves. Brynne blinks away the last of her tears, sniffling as she looks toward the city not far ahead of her. “I trust you’ll choose to cooperate.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just wanted to mention that the tags are for the entire work, not just what's present at the moment. If certain things come up, I'll be sure to add them as I go. For now, though, this is what we'll be working with.
> 
> This is the first chapter of the first act of this book, detailing the events in the year-ish leading up to the sequels. 
> 
> I listened to "Smother" by Daughter quite a bit while writing this. Highly recommend the song, if you're into discovering the music that fits Brynne's vibe.

_“Shit!”_

Brynne looks up from the small stack of papers, pausing her reading to watch as her sister drops yet another box from her spot on top of the small ladder. “I don’t see why you’re trying to balance everything up there at once,” glancing at the wares strewn across the ground, she sighs. “It’ll be a miracle if we have enough unbroken items to put on display, once you’re done.”

The younger of the pair rolls her eyes, stepping down from the ladder. “I don’t see _you_ doing anything to stock the shelves!” 

“I’m literally going over our inventory right —”

“Doesn’t count,” Lyka bends down to pick up the scattered trinkets and carvings. Slipping a few fallen necklaces onto her arm, she carries the items to the counter and drops them on top of Brynne’s paperwork. “You’ll have earned the right to complain once you’ve helped me finish setting up the new stock.” 

Brynne’s gaze shoots daggers, but Lyka is unphased. She turns on her heel, and moves to resume her spot at the top of the ladder. “I don’t see why you don’t use those powers of yours to stop things from falling if you’re so concerned about it.”

Brynne looks over her shoulder toward the door as she positions some of the small trinkets on the front of the counter. “And _I_ don’t see why you’re speaking so loudly,” she huffs. “That isn’t exactly something you should go around parading about.”

“Speak for yourself!” Lyka smiles brightly. “If I could use the legendary _force_ , I’d be showing it off every chance I got.” The ladder wobbles, and another box on the top step teeters too close to the edge. Brynne’s hand shoots out, and the box steadies. “ _Woah_ …” Lyka laughs as she opens the box and begins to sort through the various artisan crafts. “You’re like a Jedi, or something.”

“No Jedi talk during store hours.” The duo’s mother steps into the room, greeting them with a warm smile. 

“There’s no Jedi to talk about,” shaking her head, Brynne hands the inventory paperwork to her mother. “They aren’t real, anyway. Not anymore, at least.”

Elyse, matriarch of the Varel family, would suggest otherwise. “Your grandfather would tell me so many stories about the Jedi when I was young. The legends you kids grew up on were _nothing_ compared to the things he knew and the events my generation witnessed.”

“I’m pretty sure the stories you and dad told us were made up,” Lyka quips, tossing an empty box onto the floor and opening the final one in her stack. “Neither of you ever left the planet, so unless you’re harboring some secret Jedi knowledge, I’m inclined to believe that those _events_ were embellished upon.”

 _Dad_. Brynne tried to not think about him too often. Her mood always seemed to falter each time he was brought up in conversation. 

The Varel household hadn’t been the same in the two years since his passing. There was a light missing from their lives, and the foundation of their support system wasn’t the same without his presence. Their small shop in Theed struggled enough in the midst of the aristocratic environment they stuck out in. With the two eldest Varel children living elsewhere on the planet with their own families, the three who remained in the household were barely scraping by. 

Perhaps that was why Brynne had been so hesitant to explore the possibilities promised to her by the powerful voice that had moved into the back of her mind months ago. She was scared she was going insane, but her gut said that each thing the deep voice spoke was completely true; all she had to do was give into the offer of something _more_. 

Or maybe her mind was just trying to rationalize its own deterioration. That was plausible too.

“Naboo is filled with history, Lyka,” Elyse sifts through the inventory paperwork, making a mental note of what she needed to pick up in the marketplace near the palace. “I implore you to actually study it one day, you might learn something useful.”

“What, and spend my precious time being a valuable member of society when I could be pestering Brynne about her force-tricks instead?” She laughs, waving her hand dismissively. “I think I’ll pass.”

Elyse looks to Brynne, shaking her head. “At least _you’ve_ got your head screwed on straight.” 

The eldest of the sisters smiles, placing the last of the wooden carvings upon a shelf. “What’s on your agenda for the day?”

Elyse exhales loudly, rubbing her face. “More than I can manage on my own,” it seemed that had become the usual daily pattern for the shopkeep since her husband passed. “Supply pickup in the marketplace, meeting your brother for dinner across the city, somehow finding the time to replace the flowers at your father’s spot by the river —”

Brynne places a hand upon her mother’s shoulder, noticing her mind picking up a pace her words could hardly keep up with. “I’m happy to help, if you need anything. You know I’d never pass up a chance to take a trip outside the city.”

Elyse nods, closing her eyes for a moment as she thinks. “Alright,” she nods, turning to look at Lyka as she finishes setting up the new stock display. “That should be fine, but I’m a bit hesitant to leave the shop in _this one’s_ hands for an entire day.”

“ _Hey_!” Lyka pouts, stepping down from the wooden ladder and collecting the few empty boxes on the ground. “I may joke here and there, but you know I take this seriously.” Her arms juggle the several containers as she places them next to the staircase leading upstairs to the family’s home. “Lucky for you all, I actually enjoy working here. Wouldn’t be surprised if Brynne up and left to avoid running this place one day, just like Cora and Decan did.”

She wanted to be offended, but Brynne would be lying if she said her younger sister was wrong about her possible future. Though she truly didn’t want to live out her years running the family’s shop, she had accepted that her life would be spent in such a manner, since her two eldest siblings opted out of the responsibility. 

That is, until the now-familiar voice had called to her with the promise of a purpose in the complex macrocosm that was the galaxy. She had hoped her family would be understanding if she ever chose to go through with the offer.

Or they’d say she lost her mind. Who’s to say, really?

Elyse waves a hand in Lyka’s direction, silently commanding her youngest daughter to stop complaining about her siblings. “Let’s not argue over something that may never come. Brynne’s still standing here, and she’s helping me get through the day. That counts for something.”

Lyka shrugs. “Fair enough,” swiftly returning the ladder to its designated spot, she ushers Brynne away from the counter. “I’ve got it from here, go on and do your thing and I’ll do mine.”

Elyse heads toward the open door, pulling a small satchel over her shoulder. “Try to make sure the shop doesn’t turn to ash while I’m gone.”

Brynne chuckles and heads toward the stairs, leaving Lyka to head the shop alone. “It’ll be right where you found it, promise.”

Heading up into the small apartment, Brynne walks through the foyer into her bedroom. Though things had become more difficult around the Varels’ shop ever since half of the family’s members were no longer present, there was one silver lining to the situation: Brynne didn’t have to worry about her siblings stealing her credits.

She grabs a small cloth bag from where it rests on the stand next to her bed, and opens it. 

The Varel’s didn’t have much money, Brynne included, but she didn’t mind spending a bit more to purchase nicer flowers for her father’s memorial site.

After bidding Lyka farewell, Brynne roams the streets toward the marketplace. The walk was no more than thirty minutes, but the trek became more and more daunting each time she took it. The palace stood tall in the distance, towering over Theed’s aristocratic population proudly.

She couldn’t even begin to imagine what it would be like to exist within the palace’s walls. It was indeed rich with history and political intrigue, as her mother suggested, but Brynne wasn’t certain if a life within the galaxy’s political ordeals would be a blessing or a curse. She was no leader, and she was quite alright with that. Some people preferred to follow, only straying from the path when they felt comfortable, and Brynne had accepted that she was simply one of the many who fell into that category.

Ruling over an entire planet wasn’t even in the realm of possibility for Brynne to attempt to fathom. It was perplexing, as Brynne grew older, to watch the fellow children in the city dream of life in the palace. Sure, it was pretty, and there were undoubtedly benefits to existing in such an esteemed position, but that position brought a plethora of responsibilities along with it.

Brynne could hardly even make important decisions for herself. But making choices that dictate the fate of an entire planet’s population? Suddenly, she was perfectly content running her family’s shop for the rest of her days.

Pulling herself out of her thoughts, Brynne enters the busy marketplace. Maybe one day her pockets would be heavy enough with credits that she could afford, quite literally, to peruse the different wares that were for sale. 

Unfortunately, today was not that day.

She approaches the familiar flower stand, smiling warmly at the elderly man wrapping a bouquet with a bright orange ribbon. “ _Brynne_!” He grins, clapping his hands together eagerly. “On your way to visit your father?”

She nods. “Yes, sir. Just replacing the flowers today; it’s been longer than we’d have liked since the last time.”

“ _Ah_ , I understand,” he begins to gather some small blossoms into his hand. “The usual, then?”

“Actually…” Brynne bites her lip, looking at the pre-made bouquets the elderlly florist had to offer. “Could I get some of the millaflowers this time around?”

“Oh!” He nods, raising an eyebrow as he pulls the bouquet from the display. “You’re either planning on making a poison or showing your respects,” He holds the bundle out to Brynne. “Your business is your business, but if someone traces the dead back to you, then you better tell them I had nothing to do with it.”

Brynne laughs, taking the bouquet and handing some credits to the man. “They’ll never know.”

The old florist flashes Brynne a crooked, toothy smile. “Always a pleasure doing business with you, Brynne. Enjoy your afternoon.” She nods to him, returning his kind gesture before she walks away.

The walk leading outside of Theed had always been a favorite of Brynne’s. It wasn’t that she didn’t love the elegant city — she could sit and stare at the ornate architecture for hours, but as she made her way toward the exit, she couldn’t help but notice that the city stopped feeling so suffocatingly vast. The buildings became smaller, the families within them were less important in the big picture, and the palace was only a vague silhouette that faded into the distance.

When she was younger, much of her time was spent roaming outside of Theed’s walls. These days, Brynne didn’t have the time nor the energy to make the journey to the babbling river that once offered her solace. 

She had awakened whatever _force_ that laid dormant inside her for so many years, right on the riverbank. Her father’s ashes were thrown into the wind, as per Naboo tradition, near the waterfalls that fed into the water. His memorial was set up outside of the city’s walls, not far from the river either. Maybe it was for the best that Brynne didn’t have the drive to visit as much as she used to. The river stopped being a place for solitude and reflection when it began hosting memories that shook her to her core.

The millaflowers’ aroma fills her nose as she nears her father’s memorial site. The scent puts her at ease as she reaches the small marker near the hillside. It wasn’t much, just a small stone statue partially buried into the ground next to a perfectly average tree, but it worked. Jarrik Varel was a good man, but he didn’t want anything extravagant in his life. The craftsman was perfectly content just running a shop with his family, who he could pass his trade on to if they desired to learn. His memorial honored his simplicity, and the unsuspecting location ensured that no one would come by and deface it.

Brynne steps behind the tree, kneeling down in front of the statue. “Hi, Dad,” she smiles softly, placing the millaflowers down next to the carved gray stone. Though it only served to honor his memory, the memorial still acted as a way for Brynne to reach out to her father whenever she felt the need to. “Got you some new flowers this time around. I don’t remember if you liked these or not,” her smile fades. She’d always been an observant person, but she found herself forgetting the little things about her father that she had never thought to memorize. She tries to make up for it by committing to memory the small details about others in her life, but her efforts don’t fill the missing spaces in her memories of her father. 

“The man selling them said they can be used to make poison or show respect, so I hope you don’t get the wrong impression.” She laughs quietly to herself as she dusts the moist dirt from her knees. 

Brynne is quiet for a moment, taking in the sounds of the nature surrounding her. “I’m going to be honest, with you, I’m kind of scared.” Her breath shudders as she exhales. “This whole force thing is… _a lot_ ,” she scoffs weakly. “I don’t know why I have it, where it came from, what to do about it…” She bites her lip. “You and Mom didn’t have it. Why do I?”

Brynne frowns, knowing her questions won’t be answered. “Things were simpler without it. It’s like I’ve been given an extra piece to a puzzle I thought I already solved, and I’m expected to make it work and fit it in somewhere.” Taking a moment to breathe in deeply, Brynne considers her the events that have led her to this point. “You were always so accepting of it. It didn’t make a difference to you, because I was still _me_ — or whatever it was you’d say.” She rubs her forehead, feeling a headache coming on. They were more frequent than ever these days, a side effect of over-exerting herself without proper training, according to the voice in the back of her mind.

“Would…” Brynne’s voice wavers, but she forces herself to speak. “Would it change anything if I told you someone thinks they can help me?” Tears well in her eyes, frustration and fear coming to the forefront of her thoughts. She hadn’t spoken to anyone about the offer just yet. “They say they can have me trained, that I’m destined for something more than _this_ —” she gestures to nothing in particular. “I don’t know how, but I _know_ they're telling the truth. It’s like something’s been calling to me this whole time and I’m finally being offered answers, but I just feel so selfish even _considering_ taking —” 

Brynne’s head snaps up, her words caught in her throat as the soft roar of an engine catches her attention. She stands quietly, peeking out from behind the tree to see if anyone was nearby.

Nothing.

She scoffs. “Okay, yeah, maybe I _am_ losing my mind. That’s fine.” Her head surges with pain, eliciting a groan from Brynne as she closes her eyes and massages her temples. Looking back at her father’s memorial, she sighs. “I’ll talk to you soon, I hope.”

As she walks back toward Theed, the throbbing pain behind Brynne’s eyes worsens. “ _Miss Varel_.” 

Stopping dead in her tracks, her eyes fly open as she spins, looking for the source of the voice around her. “ _No, no, no, no, no_ …” Brynne turns on her heel, mumbling to herself as she sprints toward the city.

“ _Calm yourself, child_ ,” recognition rings through Brynne’s mind as the familiar voice echoes through her thoughts. “ _I must admit, it took a great deal of effort to find you. I am impressed by your strength, but you have ultimately failed to obstruct me from your mind_.”

Brynne falls to her knees, panting as she tries to catch her breath. “What now?”

“ _I heard your conversation with your father_ ,” she closes her eyes, the pain radiating from inside her skull now unbearable. “ _It was not intentional; your grief is louder than you realize_.”

She shakes her head, tears returning to her eyes. “I’m losing my fucking mind, aren’t I?” The last thing she needed was this entity, if it was in fact real, meddling in her personal affairs.

An unsettling chuckle reverberates through her mind. “ _I am extending my offer, once more. I have ordered for a transport to bring you to us tomorrow evening. This is the final time I will ask you to make a decision_ ,” as if it were never there to begin with, the pain behind her eyes leaves in waves. Brynne blinks away the last of her tears, sniffling as she looks toward the city not far ahead of her. “ _I trust you’ll choose to cooperate_.”

And with that, the everyday pressure against her skull is erased, and the space the voice once filled in the back of her mind is empty for the first time in months.

Brynne rises to her feet, feeling simultaneously weaker yet more free than ever. Slowly, she makes her way through Theed’s entrance, and struggles not to stumble on the familiar path home. The sun would be setting soon. She could make it home in time to help Lyka close up the shop for the day, provided she didn’t make any detours on the way back. 

Her trek home is slower than usual, the shuffling of her feet and slow place acting as symptoms of having her mind invaded and retreated from more aggressively than ever before.

Children run through the streets, not a care in the galaxy as they play together and their parents watch fondly. Brynne only vaguely remembers those days. It’s easy for someone like her to long for the blissful ignorance of childhood, but returning to such an age would only require her to eventually relive the past few years of her life again; she’d rather do anything else, if she had to be completely honest.

Several women, who Brynne recognizes as noblewomen, speak quietly to each other as they walk in the direction of the palace. She’s not sure what they’re gossiping about, their hushed whispers being shared quickly, but she knows better than to try to eavesdrop on the aristocracy of the city. 

Whatever responsibilities the noblewomen were burdened with would have been far simpler than the illusion of choice that rested upon Brynne’s shoulders. As adamantly as she never wanted to be part of the aristocracy, she would have switched positions with them in a heartbeat if it meant she’d be free of the pain her abilities came with.

Brynne turns the corner onto a cobblestone street, her family’s small shop not too far in the distance. The neighboring homes and shops that once contained her childhood friends held no familiar faces anymore. Whether the residents had simply moved on, or crumbled under the financial stress of existing in the capital city, the families Brynne had come to know as acquaintances and confidants hadn’t graced Theed with their presence in years.

Though, at twenty four, Brynne couldn’t help but wonder if she was supposed to do the same. She expected to live out her years at the family’s shop, trying her best to keep it running for another generation, but whether that was something she actually desired was a different question entirely.

Truthfully, she didn’t know what she wanted.

The statement from the voice that echoed against the walls of her skull wasn’t a helpful addition to the matter.

Did she _want_ to learn more about her abilities? Of course. Did she _want_ to train, and harness her powers for something greater? Maybe. Who she would be training under, and if she was alright with that — she wasn’t certain. 

The unknown was perhaps the worst part of it. The fact that the voice wouldn’t identify itself and simply teased and toyed with Brynne whenever she asked wasn’t a good sign, but her choices were limited. Either she’d board the transport, or face the consequences. The time she had to choose was quickly running out.

She wasn’t sure which option would be worse.

Walking through the door to the shop, Brynne walks past as Lyka speaks with a customer. “This is one of a kind,” Lyka folds the quilted blanket carefully. “Handcrafted by a locally trained artisan.” 

“Is it, now?” The woman, not much older than Brynne, drops her credits into Lyka’s palm. “It’s perfect. My husband will love it.”

Lyka hands the customer the thick blanket with a smile. “I’m sure he will.” The woman takes it, telling Lyka to have a good night one her way out. The youngest Varel child walks toward the door, peeking her head out to see if any customers were on their way. 

“ _Locally trained artisan_? Really?”

Lyka turns her head back to look at Brynne, and smiles. “What, is Mom not locally trained?” She leans against the doorway, breathing in the evening air. “Did you have a good visit with Dad?

Brynne nods, her brief smile not quite meeting her eyes. “Yeah, I splurged and got some nicer flowers this time around.”

“He would both appreciate it, and reprimand you for spending money on him.”

Brynne quietly laughs, nodding her head. “Yeah, he probably would.” She watches as Lyka waves to those passing by. “You should visit him sometime.”

“ _I_ _do_ ,” her reply is short and defensive, nearly shutting down the conversation. “You have your schedule, and I have mine.” She steps back into the shop, and opens a satchel of credits, beginning to count the day’s earnings.

“I’m not judging —”

“That’s not how it sounds.”

Brynne sighs. It might be her last full day with her family for quite some time. She’d rather not spend it fighting. “You’re right, sorry.” She sits on the staircase leading up to the Varels’ apartment, running a hand through her dark hair.

Lyka notices Brynne’s sudden change in demeanor, her eyes following her sister as Brynne moves across the shop. “Something’s bothering you,” she places the credits back into the small satchel, noting the total on a pad of paper resting on the counter. “You don’t have to talk about it, but we can if you want to.”

Brynne’s silent for a moment, taking the time to piece her scattered thoughts together. “I’ve been putting something off for some time,” she closes her eyes, inhaling deeply. “And now I have to make a decision.”

Confusion clouds Lyka’s expression as she steps out from behind the counter, looking toward Brynne. “Yes, that’s how choices tend to work.”

Brynne shakes her head, fighting back tears as she bites her lip, the gravity of the situation finally dawning on her. “I honestly don't think I have much of a choice this time.”

Lyka frowns, moving to sit beside her older sister. “What happened?”

Brynne is fighting with herself inside her own mind, struggling to maintain the emotional dam that’s threatening to break at any moment. “I’ve been in contact with someone who believes they can train me in the force.” 

The Varel’s had taken to the sudden development of Brynne’s powers in her adolescence surprisingly well. Though she kept them secret for as long as she could, it was nearly impossible for anything to happen in the Varel household without Jarrik or Elyse finding out about it one way or another. And while the couple had no concrete answers for where their daughter’s abilities may have manifested from, they took on the challenge without question.

They couldn’t train Brynne, but they _could_ watch over her as she navigated her newly awakened powers. They, along with their three children, would provide Brynne with the emotional support she needed in order to thrive as best she could, given the circumstances. It wasn’t as if there was anywhere they could send Brynne off to for training. Even if there were, the Varel’s had spent generations avoiding the galactic conflict that Naboo often found itself at the center of. 

Word getting out about the force-wielder would only tear apart the safety net the family had maintained for so long. Brynne understood the value in such a shield, and had no desire to shatter it for her own gain.

Naboo’s best kept secret was the powerful essence that existed within the third Varel child. No one paid a second glance to the perfectly average household, let alone one of their quieter children. Decan and Cora’s spouses were never privy to the information. While it pained the two eldest children to keep the secret from their families, they understood that it was for the greater good. Letting such information be shared freely would only put Brynne’s safety at risk. 

Hiding the truth from their families was a necessary sacrifice that had to be made in order to protect one another.

Lyka’s brows knit. “How is that a bad thing?” She places a hand on Brynne’s upper back, patting it. “That’s wonderful news, you can finally learn more about all of this!” 

Brynne focuses her attention to the ground. Her shoes and pants are stained with spots of dirt and green grass from her trip to the river. Little inconveniences like these paled in comparison to the situation at hand. She’s quiet for another moment, struggling to form her thoughts into anything coherent.

How was she supposed to explain that someone had infiltrated her mind? That he called to her, promising to show her the potential that had been locked so deeply within her? That he fed off of her fears, using them as collateral when Brynne’s willingness to accept his offer wavered? That his warning of cooperation implied a much more sinister fate was awaiting her decision, ready to jump at the chance if she ultimately said no? 

How could she _possibly_ begin to explain the instinctual feeling in her gut that screamed her family would be caught in the crossfire if she refused to be a willing participant in this training? Call it intuition, worry, or common sense; Brynne knew better than to believe the cryptic words of the disembodied voice were only idle threats, hollow with no true meaning behind them.

Her confidence wavers, suddenly wishing that she had never engaged in the conversation in the first place. Brynne opens and closes her mouth a few times, sound unable to come out. “I don’t even know where to begin.”

Lyka nods, knowing that whatever her sister was going through was something that she’d never begin to understand. “Well,” she prompts. “What _do_ you know? What makes you think they can train you?”

Brynne chews at the inside of her cheek, pondering the question. There was the obvious bit: they had entered her head. Surely it would take someone incredibly powerful to be capable of such a feat. She imagined it would take great strength to insert oneself into the mind of someone who was likely halfway across the galaxy. How they found her among the many people in the galaxy, and why they chose to cling to her, were things she’d never understand. But locating her after she had worked hard to consciously keep them away from her personal life? That genuinely scared her. 

“I can feel it. Inside me, around me ….” Brynne pauses, unsure of the correct words to say. “It feels right. Like it’s calling out to me, and meant to happen.”

Lyka nods, pulling a knee up to her chest and leaning her elbow upon it. She rests her chin in her hand as she recalls the stories their parents had told them growing up. The legends that detailed the force and the escapades of those who possessed it implied that a mysterious calling often led to danger — to the dark side. However, there were also stories of adventure and being daring; tales of taking risks and following one’s instincts as they guided the force-user from one mission to the next.

She looks at her sister. Brynne was visibly conflicted, and Lyka would be lying if she said she wasn’t just as worried for her older sister. “How long have you been in contact with this person?” She didn’t want to pry too much, but it was evident that this had been weighing heavily on Brynne’s mind.

Brynne doesn’t know the exact dates. The voice had taken up residence in her mind soon after she turned twenty four just a few months prior. “A few months.” Not remembering the specifics may have been a defense mechanism. While she may not have known when, how, or why the connection to the being established itself, she did know that it ended the tug-of-war that had existed in her mind for years. She no longer felt the never-ending conflict and turmoil that echoed in her thoughts. The whispers and visions stopped when her violent headaches began. 

At the time, she had seen the change as a blessing. Now, she was left to reap what she sowed, struggling to face the consequences of when she welcomed the connection with hesitantly opened arms.

“And you trust them?”

The question rests in the air between them as Brynne takes the time to form an answer she believes to be true. She speaks slowly. “I trust that they know what they’re talking about, and it might be my only option for training.”

Lyka frowns. “That’s not what I asked. You know those are two different things.” Brynne is silent. She doesn’t know who the voice promising her a future even belongs to; trusting them is a whole different obstacle she’s not quite ready to tackle just yet. “So where does this leave you? What’s caused you to become so worried?”

Brynne hesitates, but ultimately forces herself to speak. “They’ve arranged for a transport to come get me.”

“ _Oh_ ,” Lyka nods slowly. “It’s all becoming a bit too real a bit too fast then, I assume?”

Brynne nods. “Yeah. Something like that.”

“Who is this person? Where would they be taking you?”

“I suppose I’ll find out soon.” And with that, her decision is made. She doesn’t have to explicitly state her plans to leave — her intention is clear. 

Lyka watches Brynne sadly, but her sister won’t meet her gaze. “When will the transport be arriving?”

A tear slips from Brynne’s eye, traveling down her cheek as she breathes in deeply in an attempt to maintain composure. “Tomorrow evening.”

“Okay.” Lyka’s voice is quiet, barely above a whisper. Had she known her time with Brynne would be cut short so soon, she may have done things differently; spent more time with her, begged her to show her the best spots in the nature outside the city, asked for extra advice, teased her just a bit more than usual (though, she might retract her accusation of planning to up and leave from earlier in the day).

“ _How long will you be gone for?_ ” The two look toward the shop’s entrance, seeing their mother standing in the doorway. She wasn’t sure exactly how much Elyse had heard, but Brynne knew it was enough.

She finally breaks, a choked sob escaping from her throat. “I don’t know.” The ridiculousness of her plan, or lack thereof, finally crashes upon her. There were no true details, only a vague promise of training and knowledge. At one point, it would have been more than Brynne could have ever hoped for. Now, if the entity’s veiled threat of cooperation was to be taken at face value, Brynne knew she had little say in the matter.

Elyse closes the door quietly, locking it behind her before making her way toward her daughters. Brynne was no ordinary child, and therefore required more than what her ordinary circumstances could ever provide. She and Jarrik had worked hard to maintain an environment where Brynne could feel safe wielding her abilities, but it was only a matter of time before her lack of training became a liability, suffocating her and causing more trouble than needed.

Brynne may have been twenty four years old, but when Elyse looked at her daughter she would always see the face of the baby girl who came into the universe so long ago. It was the same face she saw on the frightened teenager who had frozen a branch mid-air with no explanation. It had appeared when her daughter had learned of Jarrik’s passing, and Elyse would see it every single time she looked at Brynne.

A passionate woman, often too curious for her own good and far too willing to put her own needs aside for that of those around her, Brynne had been like this from the very beginning. Elyse knew that her daughter’s selflessness would only lead to her demise if Brynne continued to neglect what she knew she needed.

“ _Alright_ ,” Elyse kneels on the floor in front of the step her daughters are perched upon. “It’s settled then.”

Brynne’s expression is unreadable. “Truly?” She’s torn in two, wanting to stay behind and rid herself of the emotional turmoil the ordeal has caused her in such a short period of time. But still, her instincts guide her to the stars, where the disembodied voice has promised her a future. The details of said future were uncertain, but it had to be better than the alternative of facing whatever wrath was waiting for her to back out. 

Elyse nods somberly, reaching to squeeze her daughter’s hand. “I’ll be honest, I don’t understand a damn thing about any of this. I never have,” her admission was true. How Brynne came to wield the force, what it meant for her future, how it would impact the family in the long run — none of it made sense to Elyse. “But we’ll make it work. We always do.” She stands, placing a kiss upon Brynne’s head, then Lyka’s. “Go try to get some sleep. We’ve much to handle in the morning.”

Brynne stands, walking up toward the family’s apartment. Lyka pulls her mother into a hug as Elyse takes Brynne’s spot at the bottom of the stairs. Brynne does not spare a glance to look back at the two women downstairs. Instead, she sniffles quietly and uses the back of her hand to wipe the remaining tears from her eyes as she heads toward her bedroom.

Brynne was mistaken when she had hoped that her newly pain-free mind would mean she could sleep soundly for once. 

She sits up in her bed, stretching as she looks out the window and into the streets of Theed below. The city was all she knew, and had always been home to the Varel’s.

Brynne wasn’t sure she was ready to discover what “home” would begin to mean in the next few days.

She stands, slipping on her dirtied shoes and her hooded robes. The apartment is silent, save for Lyka’s soft snoring from the room across from Brynne’s own, and the creaking of her door as it opens. Her footsteps tap against the soft stone stairs as she pads toward the exit.

Pulling a spare key from behind the counter, Brynne slips outside and locks the door behind her. 

Theed was quiet at night. The streets were typically empty, save for the occasional guard watching over the city or aristocrat stumbling back toward the palace drunkenly. She shoves the key into her back pocket, pulling her robe closer around herself. The crisp breeze prompts her to walk faster toward the epicenter of the city.

She had half a mind to take her midnight diversion on a detour outside of Theed to speak to her father; to take the chance to say goodbye one last time, afraid she may not have the opportunity to do so for quite a while, if ever again, once she’s broken out of the Naboo’s atmosphere.

Instead, her feet guide her toward the palace that looms over Theed, a constant reminder of the political turmoil the city had been riddled with in recent generations.

She dashes through the marketplace, passing each of the stalls she could never afford to purchase from. The structures surrounding the scene around her become far more ornate as she nears the palace. Carefully crafted marble statues and neatly trimmed trees line the streets that lead to the palace entrance.

Brynne stops in her tracks, staring at the seemingly infinite number of stairs in the distance that led to the palace’s doors. 

She hadn’t been this close to the palace in quite some time, likely since her father was alive. Festivals would be held throughout the year near the entrance, celebrating various holidays important to the people of Naboo. Her father had taken the family to them annually as she grew up. While her eldest sister and brother may have carried on the tradition, taking their own, newly-formed families to the festivals in the years since their father’s passing, Brynne prefered to stay home with Lyka and their mother. 

Elyse had always justified it by saying that festivals were good for business. Brynne and Lyka had silently agreed that there wasn’t anything worth celebrating across the city without their father alongside them.

Why she had felt drawn to the palace this time, she wasn’t sure. She had spent the past two years actively avoiding it, scowling at its presence whenever she came too close to the gates. Maybe this was her own way of subconsciously saying goodbye to her family, through a location they once held close. She’d never admit it, but deep down she actually enjoyed visiting the palace; it _did_ host many of the memories she held closest.

Brynne falls to her knees, coming down from her run and breathing in the cool evening air as she looks up toward the sky.

It was going to rain soon.

Full, dark clouds ominously hovered in the distance. It would not be long until they traveled over the palace, greeting Theed with a storm that would surely put a damper on any plans the city’s citizens had the following morning.

Not that it mattered, though. The clock that counted down Brynne’s remaining hours in the city was ticking faster than ever. Whatever impact the storm had on the city would mean nothing to her by this time tomorrow.

The stars still shone brightly in the night sky, despite the impending weather. The galaxy was vast, filled with uncharted territories and overflowing with the never-ending battles it hosted. Though her future was uncertain, she could not help but wonder what her role in the galaxy might become.

It was feasible to assume that she would remain nobody special — just another woman fighting to find her place in the midst of everything. It was unlikely she’d become anyone important to the current battle among the stars. She had grown used to living a life that was rather unremarkable, in the grand scheme of things.

She sighs, rising back onto her feet. Her fate was not worth pondering over when she hadn’t even boarded the transport just yet.

Thunder rumbles in the distance as raindrops begin to fall upon Brynne’s face. It does not take long for the pitter-patter of the drizzle to pick up speed. Pulling her hood over her head, Brynne turns to head home. 

She’s not in nearly as much of a hurry to reach the Varel family’s shop as she was to reach the palace. 

Going home meant forcing herself to try to sleep (often to no avail). Assuming she actually slept, the morning would come soon after. The new day meant she would be approaching her final hours before joining the mystery entity on whatever location they deemed appropriate. Joining the voice that had moved into the back of her mind meant facing her fears all at once, and no longer holding control over her destiny.

Losing control, in _any_ capacity, terrified Brynne.

No matter how slowly she walks on the long way home, Brynne’s journey back must eventually come to an end. For the second time today, she turns onto the familiar cobblestone street leading back to her home. The day has taken a toll on her, leaving the young woman drained as she approaches the building. She stops in front of the door, fishing her key out of her pocket. 

The sound of metal on the street’s uneven stone pavement snatches her out of her sleepy state. She turns around quickly, her eyes meeting the helmet of a stormtrooper standing across the street.

Frozen in place, she swallows as she waits for the trooper to make any movement. It stands just as still, watching her for a moment. A state of calm rushes over Brynne, replacing the initial instinct of paralyzing fear. 

The stormtrooper slowly nods towards her, acknowledging her presence. She returns the gesture, and the trooper resumes walking toward the way Brynne entered from. She watches it carefully, making sure it turns onto the street leading to Theed’s exit before she heads into her home.

The faint ghost of a familiar headache hangs over Brynne’s head as she rubs her eyes, entering the building and placing the key back in it’s spot behind the counter. Consciously choosing not to address her experience with the stormtrooper until the morning, she makes her way upstairs and back into her bedroom.

She might get in a few hours of sleep tonight, should she be so lucky.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> That was a long one! This chapter went through a few different versions, but it felt right to present Brynne in a situation like this that would kickstart her story. 
> 
> The prologue does a bit of info-dumping (oops), so this seemed like a good place to start off with. Also still trying to come up with an update schedule that works for me. We'll get there eventually, lol.
> 
> Hope you enjoyed! I'm excited to show you all where this story goes.


	3. There’s Always A Catch

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sleek gray metal with turrets at the ready. Three stormtroopers stand outside the ship, with no less than six visible inside from where Brynne stands on the ground below them.
> 
> “We are under orders from Supreme Leader Snoke to bring you to the Supremacy.” Brynne’s never been an expert on ships, but it’s safe to say that the Supremacy is likely no one’s first choice of destination.

The rain subsides to a soft drizzle by the time Brynne wakes, the hum of the droplets falling against her window quietly coaxing her from her slumber.

Four hours of undisturbed sleep. That might be a new record.

She blinks, eyes adjusting to the morning light as streaks of sunlight break through the clouds and illuminate the bustling streets of Theed below. She groans, turning over as she pulls a thin blanket up to her chin. 

Four hours may be a new record, but it still isn’t enough.

One final morning in her bed. One final day in Theed. The one final night had already passed, and what lies ahead is entirely unknown.

Well, maybe not _entirely_. A seeking feeling makes its home in Brynne’s stomach as she recalls the stormtrooper outside the shop the night before. A peaceful encounter, the basic acknowledgement of each other’s presence before going their separate ways — it was simple. Too simple. Everything about this was too easy, too cut-and-dried.

There’s a catch. There has to be, there’s always a catch. Nothing in the world was ever so simple, so thoughtless.

Why had the trooper just walked away? Why hadn’t her mother fought for her to say in Theed, maintaining the makeshift training methods they had developed over the years? Why was the voice in the back of her head so dead set on her joining them for training? Why was their offer (or rather, demand) so firm? 

_Why her?_

Sighing, she rolls onto her back to stare at the ceiling. The things that were never worth dwelling on were now all she could think about. 

But with thinking came hours of moping around and contemplating her existence, and truthfully she doesn’t have the time nor the desire to unpack that today of all days.

Throwing the blanket off of her and to her side, Brynne swings her feet off of the bed before placing them upon the cold floor.

Maybe wherever she ends up will be warmer, less crowded, and free of palaces she holds a complex emotional relationship with. Anywhere could be better than the suffocating aristocratic culture of Theed.

Well, not _anywhere_. She read about desert planets in a book once, several years ago. The ones whose populace consist of thieves, outlaws, and criminals trying to make the best of their lives in the middle of nowhere. Harsh temperatures with even harsher people — Jakku, maybe? That sounds right.

It’s been quite some time since her mind was quiet enough for her to sit down and read.

Life in Theed might seem like a privilege to those from Jakku. Endless shops, haughty people donning fancy fabrics, and intricate designs carved into each building. The city was delicately held together as a shadow of their past loomed over the residents each and every day. A reminder of a once-beloved queen. A reminder of the mistakes of the chosen one and the Jedi Order. A reminder of errors to never repeat. A reminder of why the latest fight was so dire.

And despite it all, the Varel family had sat undetected in the center of the turmoil. Never pledging loyalty publicly to any side, but quietly agreeing amongst themselves that the galaxy needed peace more than it did rule via iron fist.

Still, the responsibility that came with balancing oneself under the weight of the past was a tall order, often easy to nearly crumble under. 

Brynne doubts politics in Jakku are so complex. No one fights over a planet filled with sand.

Maybe the desert _is_ the better option.

A knock at her door pulls her attention from her train of thought and back to reality. They don’t wait for Brynne’s permission before entering. “Hey…” Lyka opens the door slowly, poking her head into the bedroom to see if Brynne’s awake yet. Brynne greets her younger sister with a smile. “I know it’s a big day and all, but would you be able to help with the shop? Mom’s gone to grab Decan and —”

“Yeah,” Brynne stands, cutting Lyka off before she can finish her explanation. “Don’t worry about it.”

Lyka nods, moving to close the door, but Brynne speaks again before she can exit the room. “Is she going to bring Cora as well?”

Lyka sighs, shaking her head. “She’s in a whole other city, Brynne. I know you want to say goodbye before you go, but it would take all day to even get her here, and —”

Her words are once again dismissed as Brynne waves her hand. “It’s fine. I understand.”

Lyka nods, closing the door behind her as she leaves Brynne to her privacy. 

Brynne pouts as she opens her dresser, examining the clothes within. Would she need to bring any with her? What about her belongings? Credits? How does one even prepare for their new life somewhere without even knowing where they’d be going?

Why _was_ this location such a secret? Who was the voice speaking to her, and why did they evade her questions at every opportunity?

Reluctantly, she pulls on an outfit not dissimilar from her typical work clothes. The pale pink fabric of her favorite dress in the back of the drawer captures her attention. She runs her fingers over the fabric. A garment once worn for special occasions, now sentenced to live an eternity tucked behind beige shirts and white pants. It’s best kept hidden, along with the memory of discovering she had the long-fabled force from the last time she had worn it.

The stormtrooper from the night prior permeates her mind again, clouding her thoughts.

Was it all connected? Did they have something to do with her upcoming journey?

Of course, there would always be the option that she was going crazy.

Regardless of the cause, one thing is certain: Brynne has a bad feeling about whatever lies ahead, and she can’t shake it no matter what she does. The anxiety plagues her gut, causing her heart to race and her stomach to feel sick.

What the _hell_ has she gotten herself into?

There would be time to address these questions when she was sitting on the transport to who-knows-where later that night. For now, Brynne has limited time left on Naboo that she intends to make the best of.

Swiping her credits from the nightstand, she exits her bedroom and heads downstairs to assist with the shop’s daily affairs one last time.

Everything seems so _final_. Things wouldn’t be the same from today onward, and there was a shift to Brynne’s mindset. The only certainty in Brynne’s uncertain future is the fact that within twelve hours, she’ll be off Naboo for the first time in her life. As exciting as that idea once was, the “what if’s” that came with it plague her mind with fear.

What if she _died_? 

No. That’s ridiculous.

But… what if? Surely, it’s a possibility. Who would Brynne be to insist she’d survive this ordeal? Survival would of course be her first priority, but what would she be going up against? Why was it so important that she’d be trained? Is there not a plethora of everyday people with force abilities that could be plucked from their homes and trained to harness their best potential?

There has to be someone, _anyone_ , who isn’t Brynne, right?

“You’re overthinking again,” Lyka remarks as she carries a stack of boxes onto the counter. 

“Seems to be what I’m best at,” Brynne frowns.

“Well, let’s channel that into something productive!” Lyka opens one of the boxes, pulling out a small spherical carving. “Mom found more of Dad’s old planet trinkets. I’m not sure it looks like Naboo from space — “ she tosses it to Brynne, who catches it against her chest. “— but maybe you can tell me once you come back.”

Brynne rolls the carving around in the palm of her hand, examining the woodwork. “Yeah, maybe.” 

“I’m still not sure how Dad knew this is what the outside of the planet looks like,” Lyka pulls some of the carvings out and places them haphazardly into a small basket sitting next to the counter. “He never left Naboo, but neither have most of the people here, so I guess you’ve gotta work with your imagination.”

Brynne opens another box, only to be met with more of the spherical trinkets. “He was always good at thinking outside the box.”

“And selling stuff,” Lyka’s smile breaks out into a small grin. “That man could spin a story to put behind his art better than anyone else.”

Breaking down the empty box, Brynne steps out from behind the counter. “You’ve always been a lot like him.”

“How so?”

“Well, for one,” Brynne places the box next to the upstairs entrance to the Varel apartment. “You actually love running this place.”

Lyka smiles sheepishly. “Yeah, I do. It’s just got a certain charm to it, I guess.”

“If by charm you mean the tension of a hardly operational business, then sure.”

Lyka rolls her eyes as she straightens up a display of handmade jewelry. “Joke all you want,” she spares a glance to Brynne, who’s busy trying to fit the excessive amount of spherical possibly-Naboo carvings into the basket. “You’re gonna miss this place when you’re off on whatever secret planet Jedi train on.”

“I’m not a —”

“No Jedi talk in the shop,” Elyse walks through the door to the shop, the eldest of the Varel children trailing not far behind her. She allows for Decan to enter before she closes the door and locks it.

“Hey!” Lyka pouts as she stops rearranging the jewelry display. “We just opened.”

“And now we’re closed.” Elyse drops her wet coat on the floor next to the door. “It’s not like we’ll be getting many customers in this weather, anyway.”

“You don’t know that.”

“Maybe not,” Elyse huffs. “But this discussion takes priority over selling your father’s leftover work.”

Brynne chews at the inside of her cheek. Decan’s gaze falls upon her, but he doesn’t meet her eyes. Lyka’s voice pulls her out of her thoughts. “You’ve gotta trust my business decisions if you expect me to run this place.”

Elyse sighs. “I know you’re joking, but you can be unbelievably frustrating.”

Decan chuckles. “Someone has to be, now that Brynne’s leaving.”

Brynne rolls her eyes. “You’re past thirty, Decan. Act like it.”

He raises his hands up in defense. “Mom said you’re heading out tonight. Force training?” 

Brynne nods.

“Where to?”

She exhales loudly, her brother’s question weighing heavily on her mind. That’s the big question, isn’t it? “I suppose I’ll find out soon.”

Decan raises an eyebrow. “Who’s getting you?” 

Brynne’s silence speaks volumes, leaving Decan dumbfounded. “So you have no idea where you’re going and who’s taking you there?”

Again, silence.

“Am I the only one who recognizes that this is a bad idea?”

Elyse rakes her fingers through her graying hair. “We didn’t say we were thrilled with the choice, only that this is the choice she’s made.”

Decan looks between his sisters and mother. “You do realize you can just tell her not to go?”

Brynne’s brows furrow, a wave of exasperation flooding her features. “It’s not that simple.”

Decan moves away from the doorway and hops up onto the counter, once his favorite seat in the house before he moved out. “And why is that?”

Lyka averts her eyes from her siblings, opting to quietly fix the item display beside her instead. 

Elyse lowers her head, crossing her arms as she takes in the situation. Decan has a point, but Brynne is an adult capable of her own choices, no matter how ill-considered they may seem. 

Brynne opens her mouth, then closes it. No matter how desperately she searches her brain for the right words, they don’t appear. “I just… have a feeling.”

“A feeling?” Decan scoffs before looking at his mother. “Are you hearing this? Please tell me I’m not the only one who sees that she’s not making any sense.”

“None of this makes sense!” Brynne snaps, heart racing as her brain struggles to craft a coherent thought. “That’s why I’m leaving. I _need_ for ths to make sense. I _need_ to understand even the smallest bit of this. I have that chance, I’m not letting it go.”

It’s quiet for a moment as Decan takes in her words, but they fall upon deaf ears. He returns his attention to his mother. “Does Cora know?”

Elyse shakes her head. “Brynne came to us about this last night.”

“Last night?” Decan laughs dryly as he hops down from the counter. “Well, I recommend you tell her sooner rather than later that her sister’s sent herself off to her own death.”

“Decan!” Elyse narrows her eyes at her son, pursing her lips.

“I'm just being realistic!” He shakes his head incredulously. “How did she convince you this was a good idea? Going off to train somewhere with some stranger with the galaxy on the brink of another war? I don’t understand.”

“It’s not _for you_ to understand,” Brynne barks. “I didn’t understand your insistence on running a fucking cantina, but we let you do it anyway.”

“That’s different —”

“I’m not done talking,” Brynne says, her breaths quickening as her temper shifts. “When Cora dropped her responsibilities to get married right after Dad died, no one questioned it.”

“Don’t bring Dad into this.”

“I’m still speaking,” Lyka watches out of the corner of her eyes as Brynne continues her tirade. “I’m making a choice for myself. It’s for me to be able to live with; not you, not Cora, not Lyka, and not Mom.” She swallows harshly, taking a deep breath in an effort to maintain what little composure is left in her grasp. “I don’t know if this is the right choice. But I have a feeling that whatever the alternative is, is far worse than what will come from me leaving. So I’d appreciate it if instead of berating me, you considered why I’m doing this.”

Decan is quiet as he absorbs Brynne’s words. “Do you plan to fight in this war?”

“What?”

“I asked if you plan to fight, be it against the First Order or against the Resistance,” Decan says.

“What does that have to do with this?” Brynne asks.

“Everything,” Decan states plainly, as if it were common sense. “I’m not sure why someone would need to be trained in the force if they weren’t planning on using it, and historically speaking we all know what it’s been used for.”

And he’s right, much to Brynne’s chagrin. There would be no reason for anyone, much less a member of the Varel family, to receive formal training in the force when it had been weilded to solve and create disputes.

“I have no intention of fighting, but if that’s what the force dictates then so be it,” Brynne declares.

“That simple then?” Decan asks. “All that effort to stay in the middle, undetected and unnoticed, all out the window so you can train in something you might never even use?”

“Did you ever stop to consider that maybe there was a reason I have these abilities?”

Decan shakes his head sadly, moving past Brynne as he heads to the door. “I think you’re giving too much credit to a legend.” Elyse watches sadly as her eldest son turns around and prepares to leave the shop. “Whatever it is you wind up finding out there, I hope it’s worth it.”

A sob makes its way to the back of Brynne’s throat, threatening to escape if she pays it too much attention. “It will be.” 

Decan offers the three women a curt nod before he exits the shop, closing the door behind him without a goodbye. 

Elyse frowns, moving to give her daughter a hug. “Brynne …”

Brynne shakes her head, brushing past her. “I’m fine.” She reaches into her pocket, feeling for the small sachet of credits. “Just need some air,” she says, her voice wavering. “Excuse me.”

Brynne exits the shop and is immediately met by the cool breeze that accompanies the soft rain. 

Jakku probably doesn’t have rain. Or older brothers who are so one-track-minded that they simply cannot be bothered to consider anyone else’s rationale.

The lonely desert planet is beginning to sound nicer and nicer in Brynne’s head, but she knows better than to believe that she’ll be heading there any time soon, if at all.

Wherever she did go, though, probably wouldn’t have much of a use for the less-than-stellar number of credits she had saved. The sooner she spent them, the sooner she was eliminating the opportunity for her to book a transport back to Theed if things got too tough. 

The sinking feeling appears in her stomach again, reminding her such an opportunity would likely never present itself in the first place. Still, it’s nice to pretend she has any amount of control over what’s to come.

The streets that lead to the marketplace were empty in the rain, despite the early afternoon often being the busiest time of day for the shopkeepers in the city’s center. The marketplace itself was vacant as well, save for a few regulars who could never miss their scheduled visit to their favorite market stalls once a week. 

“Brynne! You were here yesterday,” the old florist yells. “What could you possibly need?” The thin fabric above the stall does little to keep the man dry. The flowers likely enjoyed the hydration, though.

“I’m going on a trip,” Brynne says as she pulls the satchel of credits from her pocket. “I don’t know when I’ll be back, and I want to make sure my father’s memorial is taken care of.”

“Brynne, you know I don’t have the slightest idea where your family has that set up.”

She smiles at the old man. “And you never will, it’s a secret,” she drops the satchel on the stall’s wooden counter. “My mother and sister, however, know exactly where it is. They won’t be accompanying me while I’m away.”

The old florist picks up the satchel, opening it and examining the contents. “All of this? Truly?”

Brynne nods. “I don’t think I’ll need it where I’m going.”

The man laughs warmly as he tucks the satchel into his pocket. “Where could you possibly be going where you won’t need credits?”

“I suppose figuring that out will be part of my journey.”

Shaking his head, the old man chuckles as he rests his hands on the counter’s cool, damp wood. “Just promise me you won’t go getting lost in the Outer Rim.”

Brynne smiles, shaking her head. “As much as I’d like to, I’m not at liberty to say what might end up happening.” She inhales deeply, allowing the crisp air to fill her lungs before she speaks again. “Doesn’t have to be anything fancy. Just your cheapest flowers, once a week. Make it stretch for as long as you can.”

The old man frowns. “You’re planning on being gone a long while then, huh?” 

Brynne nods, sadness permeating her expression.

“Never took you to be an adventurer,” he leans over the counter, plucking a rominaria flower from an ornate bouquet. “Consider this a parting gift, for now.”

Brynne takes the flower, staring at it wide eyed. “I couldn’t possibly accept this,” she shakes her head. “They’re expensive, they belong in the palace gardens!”

The florist chortles. “Then luckily for you, I set the prices, and I have decided this one is free.” He waves his hand at her. “Take it with you, or drop it off if you visit your father before you go.”

Brynne offers the old man a genuine smile, nodding enthusiastically. “I will.”

“Now go,” he says. “Get off this planet. I expect you to come straight back here to tell me all of your stories when you return.”

“I will.” 

Brynne turns to walk away, but only makes it a few strides before the florist calls her name.

“Brynne!” She turns around to face him. “Don’t get into too much trouble out there.”

She raises the flower to him. “I’ll do my best.”

The rest of the afternoon occurs like any other. Customers run into the shop for a brief respite from the rain, Lyka convinces them that the Varel goods are far more special than they really are, Brynne accuses her sister of being a con artist, and Elyse watches as the two drop nearly half the items they handle.

She can only hope her daughter isn’t as clumsy with a lightsaber, should the privilege of owning one present itself.

As the evening draws closer, Brynne finds herself walking around her bedroom, packing a small bag of items to bring with her on her journey.

She hadn’t been told they weren’t permitted, so the least she could do is attempt to bring a piece of home with her.

A brand new notebook and three new pens. A square scrap of fabric from her favorite pink dress, the dusty-colored cloth pressed between her notebook’s pages. Two petals from the rominaria flower sit between the pages in the center of her notebook. They smelled like home, and reminded her of the palace she held an unnecessarily complex relationship with — a relationship she assumes she will probably grow to miss as time goes on.

She packs no clothes to bring with her aside from what she already has on her back. The delicate silver necklace she made with her father is fastened around her neck, the chain and small circle hanging from it are tucked into her shirt, in order to not draw attention to it.

She decides at the last minute to take a trinket from the shop, one of her father’s _many_ carvings of Naboo from the outside. They had plenty more to sell, so she assumed that just one taken from the stock wouldn’t impact much. 

She’s curious to know if her father’s artistic depiction of the planet from the outside is accurate. 

Her goodbyes have been said into the wind at her father’s memorial spot. Lyka and Elyse know their duties to visit the florist once a week, to not question the quality of the flower they receive, and to instead be thankful that the memorial will have something fresh on time without a second thought on their ability to afford it.

A letter has been sent to Cora, detailing Brynne’s plans (or lack thereof) and her reasoning behind them. It’s vague, with obscure references to “education,” “abilities,” and “gifts.” There’s no trace of a concrete reference to the force, just in case the letter should fall into the wrong hands.

It’s not long before Lyka and Elyse walk Brynne out of the city at the soonest sign of dusk.

“I hate walking around here in the dark,” Lyka says. “You never know who might be lurking in the shadows.”

“Theed is a perfectly safe city, Lyka,” Elyse states. 

“The galaxy was perfectly safe once too, until shit hit the fan.”

Brynne looks to her sister, brows knitting together in confusion. “Are you trying to scare me out of leaving?”

Lyka shrugs. “Mostly trying to fill the silence.”

“Could we talk about something other than the dangers that exist beyond Naboo?” Elyse requests.

Lyka nods, thoughtfully pondering a new topic of conversation. “I know you’re not sure where you’ll end up, but is there somewhere you’re hoping for?”

Brynne considers the question before shaking her head with a sullen frown. “I haven’t really thought about it. It’s all very surreal.”

“Is there somewhere you feel drawn to?”

Brynne laughs dryly. “I keep thinking about Jakku.”

“That’s the middle of nowhere! What could you possibly learn there?” Lyka scoffs.

Brynne raises her hands in defense. “I don’t know!”

Elyse smiles. “For your own sake, and the sake of our sanities when you come back, I hope they take you anywhere else.”

The walk to Theed’s gates feels shorter than ever by the time the three women reach the exit. No matter how slowly Brynne walks or how much she tries to drag her feet, it becomes time to face the inevitable. 

The pit in her stomach returns.

Elyse notices the shift in her daughter's demeanor, and rubs her back in an effort to calm her nerves. “You’ll be okay.”

Brynne nods, staring blankly into the dimly lit roads outside the city. Tears brim her eyes and she sniffles as she blinks a few away.

“We’ll be okay too,” Lyka offers. “It’s time you prioritize yourself and what you need.”

A sad smile breaks onto Brynne’s face as the two women pull her into a hug. 

“Stop crying,” Lyka says. “You’re going to make me start crying too, and then Mom’s gonna start crying, and we’re not going to be able to make it home with our emotions intact.”

Elyse smiles as she takes Brynne’s face into her grasp, wiping away a tear from her daughter’s cheek. “Only happy tears.”

Brynne nods as Elyse releases her from her grasp. “Only happy tears,” she repeats. “That goes for you guys too.”

She takes a shaky breath before turning away from her mother and sister, stepping out beyond the city’s entrance. 

“ _Brynne_ ,” her mother’s voice causes her to look over her shoulder. “Be careful.”

Brynne nods once. “I will.”

She does not look back at the two women as they watch her leave. She knows she’ll break and consider calling the whole thing off.

The consequences would be dire if she backed out now, of that much she was certain. 

She stops for a moment, closing her eyes as she allows herself to reach out to the energy around her.

She goes left, opposite of the path she commonly took to visit her father’s memorial. 

The pit in her stomach grows larger and larger as she makes her way down the long, winding road. A walk up a hill here, a turn down a street there — the trek itself is as spontaneous as her decision to make it in the first place.

She stops in her tracks suddenly as an all-too-familiar headache forces its way into her skull. 

The sensation is as unnerving as ever, making Brynne feel small and like prey being stalked where she stands.

“ _Brynne Sabine Varel_ ,” a voice from the trees causes her to turn around, and her heart drops into her stomach. 

Sleek gray metal with turrets at the ready. Three stormtroopers stand outside the ship, with no less than six visible inside from where Brynne stands on the ground below them.

“We are under orders from Supreme Leader Snoke to bring you to the Supremacy.” Brynne’s never been an expert on ships, but it’s safe to say that the Supremacy is likely no one’s first choice of destination.

It doesn’t take an expert to understand that Brynne has entered into what is potentially her worst nightmare. But still, she nods, walking up the small path onto the hill where the transport ship is stationed.

She follows one trooper — the one who had spoken to her — into the transport, and the other two follow suit, closing the door to the ship behind them. 

A pair of stun cuffs are placed upon Brynne’s wrists as the door raises and closes with a loud, metal _clang_. The moonlight disappears and is replaced by the artificial brightness of the interior of the transport ship.

There are no windows where Brynne stands. 

She does not learn if her father’s depiction of the view of Naboo from space is accurate.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Somehow "weekly updates" turned into me avoiding writing for a month lmao oops! The next chapter finally introduces Kylo and Snoke!! We're finally getting to the good stuff. Also wow, Decan's kind of an ass. At least Brynne has that nice, old florist to talk to instead, right?


	4. Know Your Responsibilities

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Snoke looks between Kylo and the newfound apprentice. “To fail me is to fail the First Order,” he says, emphasizing the words as his attention focuses upon Brynne. “I would advise you to do neither.”

Commander Kylo Ren of The First Order is not a patient man. He has things to do, people to defeat, and planets to scout with the aid of the Knights of Ren.

So, when Supreme Leader Snoke summons him to the Throne Room on his impromptu visit to the Supremacy, he cannot help but be slightly agitated.

Or, more so than usual. His natural state consists of natural annoyance, to some degree.

“Where do you think _you’re_ going?” General Armitage Hux sneers, a look of disdain upon his face.

Kylo brushes past him, hitting the general's shoulder with his own purposefully. “To speak to our Supreme Leader.”

Hux scoffs, following after him. “You can’t just barge into —”

Kylo raises a hand, stopping Hux in his tracks as his hands fly to his throat. “I’ve been summoned.”

The general stumbles back upon his release from the commander’s invisible chokehold. A few shallow breaths attempt to fill his lungs as he watches the commander walk away, sauntering toward the elevator that led to the throne room.

If there were anything Kylo excelled at — aside from being one of the deadliest force wielders, unabashed by his own behavior and skill — it would be his ability to maintain his composure simply for the sake of angering the general.

Kylo Ren’s temper is notoriously unpredictable, changing at the slightest thing. He is hot-headed, prone to eruptions of rage, has very little grasp on his emotions, and isn’t familiar with much beyond anger and resentment. But if it could spite General Hux, he had no issue bottling it up for the time being, letting it simmer as fuel for his next outburst.

The look on the general’s face when Kylo Ren appeared unbothered by his arrogance was worth more than credits could possibly buy.

When the Commander prepares to enter the elevator, he spares one glance back at the general, aloof and uninterested in the other man’s scorn.

It makes General Hux’s blood boil. He always has, and always will, loathe Kylo Ren.

* * *

Brynne Varel would like to believe she doesn’t scare easily, but she would be a liar to claim she isn’t the slightest bit worried when she feels the First Order transport ship dock onto what she assumes is the Supremacy.

The large metal door falls open with a _hiss_ , hitting the ground and allowing light to spill into the interior. The stormtrooper in front of her exits the transport as she feels the one to her right grip her upper arm, ushering her forward.

Brynne walks in the middle of the formation the stormtroopers have crafted around her, allowing them to blindly guide her through the hangar.

TIE fighters line the walls. A wide open window to the galaxy outside of the dreadnought captures Brynne’s attention, causing her to stop in her tracks. “ _Woah_ …” She stumbles, being pushed ahead by the stormtroopers behind her. 

She’s never seen so many stars, even on the clearest nights looking up to the sky from the meadows outside of Theed. Had it not been for the current circumstances, she might have considered the moment to be spectacular — a glimpse into what the galaxy has to offer, and a look into where the future could take her.

She’s not so foolish as to believe this moment could have anything positive to offer her, though.

The stormtroopers leave the hangar, leading Brynne out with them. The hallway they enter is bleak. Shiny black floors and dark gray walls. The artificial lighting shines just bright enough for Brynne to catch the sight of her reflection in the floor panels as they march down the hallway.

She’s looked better.

The journey through the Supremacy’s corridors feels endless. The troopers don’t travel as fast as Brynne would like, and she’s certain that the walk would be far less agonizing if they took larger steps.

One by one, the stormtroopers remove themselves from the formation as they turn different corners. The only one to remain with Brynne maintains his firm hold on her arm, with no signs of letting go any time soon.

The hallways of the Supremacy are empty this deep into the ship, save for a soldier here or stormtrooper there. They do not pay Brynne or her stormtrooper escort any mind. As far as the First Order officials are concerned, she is invisible — a ghost making her way through their corridors, and no one nearly important enough to spare a glance to.

Truthfully, it’s not that different from how she had been perceived in Theed. Sure, Naboo didn’t run Brynne the risk of being struck down if she strayed from the path she was guided through, but the aura of disregard and silent patronization is all too familiar.

Regardless, if she had the choice (free of consequence) between existing here with the First Order and blending in with the crowds in Theed, she would enthusiastically pick the latter.

Brynne’s thoughts flood her head, pounding against her skull as she desperately attempts to formulate an escape. She can’t pilot anything, but she could sneak onto a ship. She doesn’t have the slightest clue how to use a blaster, but how hard could it truly be? Her force abilities are hardly contained; perhaps she could use that to her advantage to cause a distraction.

Out of the corner of her eyes, she sizes up the trooper that silently guides her down the corridor.

She could take them, right?

Her eyes travel to the large blaster held effortlessly in the hand that doesn’t grip her arm.

No. There’s no way she can take them.

The two stop in front of an elevator. The trooper presses a button for the lift, and they wait as patiently as possible for the transport to another level of the ship.

Upon being pulled into the elevator aggressively, the first thing Brynne notices is the lighting. It’s _bright,_ as if this single elevator had become responsible for making up for the lack of the light on the rest of the dreadnought.

The ride is short, and the elevator opens into what is perhaps the largest chamber Brynne has ever seen.

The stun cuffs are removed from Brynne’s wrists before the trooper gently pushes her forward out of the elevator. They do not join her in the chamber, but instead return to the floor they came from.

Brynne has never witnessed so much _red_ in her entire life. No amount of flowers or paint pigments back home on Naboo could compare to the sheer abundance of the color within the chamber.

It is intense, making it hard for Brynne to decipher which hues belong to the faceless figures that line the walls, and which belong to the walls themselves.

The figures along the walls stand at the ready, ornate weapons just as red as their armor and the environment that surrounds them. Brynne has accepted that she can’t take down a stormtrooper, and she knows better than to even consider whether or not she stands a chance against anyone in the room.

The only thing she is certain of is that the guards will not hesitate to paint the walls with her blood if granted the opportunity. 

Despite the threatening presence of those who line the sides of the chamber, Brynne forces herself to pull herself back together in an attempt to show _some_ composure.

Her head begins to hurt in the way that is all too familiar, and never quite welcome.

Even though she’s never seen him before, Brynne understands that the disfigured being sitting upon the throne is the one who had invaded her mind so long ago. The distance between her and the man, creature, whatever he is, feels like miles. Brynne does not need to see the eyes of the guards to know that their gaze is glued upon her, and will not waver until she has left.

Brynne breaks her stare from the man sat upon the black throne to glance at the cloaked figure kneeling on the ground several strides in front of her. Black fabric falls from their body in waves, pooling around their legs against the reflective floor.

If their submissive actions are an attempt to lead by example, they have mistaken her for someone who obeys without question. 

Brynne returns her attention to the man on the throne, stepping forward from where she stands at the elevator’s entrance. Her footsteps echo throughout the large chamber. The man calls to her, breaking the silence within the room. “We have been anticipating your arrival for quite some time, Miss Varel.” He stands, golden robes illuminated by the lights on the floor. They glisten as he glides a few steps away from the throne. He watches her carefully, keeping an eye out for any sudden movements.

“ _Supreme Leader Snoke, I’m still not certain this —_ ” The deep, distorted voice is not given the opportunity to finish voicing his concerns before the Supreme Leader interrupts him, effectively ending his sentence.

Snoke immediately snaps his attention to the kneeling man. “Enough!” He inhales deeply, slowly turning his head back to Brynne. A chill runs down her spine; his gaze is unwavering, reducing Brynne to feeling the smallest in the room. “The matter has already been decided.” He raises his hand, beckoning Brynne to meet him at his throne. “Closer.”

Snoke returns to his spot on the throne before resuming his cold glare at the kneeling man. “Remove that monstrosity, it’s ridiculous.”

The kneeling man hesitates for a moment, but does as he’s told. A gloved hand pulls his hood down. The mask hisses as he lifts it from his head. He places it on the ground gently in front of his feet. Still kneeling before Snoke, he is careful to look at the ground rather than toward the Supreme Leader.

Brynne briefly breaks her eye contact with Snoke to spare a glance to the now-unmasked man, noticing his eye twitch as he makes the conscious effort to focus on anything but the Supreme Leader.

He is upset. Possibly angry, scared, or just unhappy to be there in the first place. Whatever he feels is soon tucked away, as all hints of emotion disappear from his face when he meets Brynne’s eyes from the corner of his own. He averts his gaze immediately, finally returning it to the Supreme Leader.

Brynne needs no introduction to the now-unmasked man. The rumors and reputation that precede him speak volumes, far more than he ever could himself. His name had been whispered in the streets of Theed when the First Order had planted the seeds that would soon take root and return the galaxy to a state of turmoil. That much, she remembers clearly. Not much was known about the man at the time of Brynne first hearing of him, save for his eagerness to lead the dark side toward their rule over the galaxy. 

But Brynne learns something new as she walks past Kylo Ren and toward the Supreme Leader: he feels indebted to Snoke. He is willing to tolerate far more from the man upon the throne than he would from anyone else. 

It’s sad, in a way, but Brynne struggles to find any sympathy for the commander of the First Order. The smallest bit of empathy is all she can offer. 

Not that he would want it, anyway.

“I must say,” Snoke begins. “I was not expecting you to be so… _eager_ to join us.” 

“I’m not certain eager is the word I would use,” Brynne says.

Snoke chuckles ominously. It’s an unnerving sound, and Brynne knows nothing good could come from it. “You did not put up a fight,” Snoke says. “And have therefore made this a simpler process than you realize.” He looks away from Brynne, and gestures for Kylo to stand on his feet. “Rise.”

Kylo stands, begrudgingly maintaining eye contact with the Supreme Leader. 

“You were offered training, and you shall receive it,” Snoke says, looking from Brynne to Kylo. “I taught my apprentice everything that has led him to where he is now, commanding the First Order.” Brynne can feel Kylo’s eyes on her, silently critiquing her. “He will train you in the force, as promised.”

For a moment, time stops. Brynne’s heart skips a beat as she processes Snoke’s words. 

Had she known deciding to trust her gut and seek training in the ways of the force would lead to her walking into the heart of the First Order, she might have opted for the consequences instead. If she had known the person conducting her training would be Kylo Ren, the commander of the First Order, she would have abandoned the idea altogether.

And yet, here she stood in the Supreme Leader’s throne room, with Kylo Ren’s gaze shooting daggers toward the side of her head.

“You both will return to Starkiller Base immediately,” Snoke continues. He looks fixedly at Kylo. “I trust you know your responsibilities.”

Kylo offers the Supreme Leader a single brief nod, and nothing more. Brynne takes note of the dynamic between the pair. Snoke expects Kylo to follow his orders without question, and Kylo does exactly that (albeit, with some resentment woven into his words and his actions).

Blind loyalty and obedience are not attributes Brynne has ever considered herself to hold. Once again, if Supreme Leader Snoke or Kylo Ren expect this from Brynne, she fears they have mistaken her for someone she isn’t. And while she can tolerate this to a degree, bending her principles if it means guaranteeing her survival, there’s no chance she can maintain such a charade for an extended period of time.

Snoke looks between Kylo and the newfound apprentice. “To fail me is to fail the First Order,” he says, emphasizing the words as his attention focuses upon Brynne. “I would advise you to do neither.”

Taking a page from Kylo’s book, Brynne stays silent and chooses to nod once in response to Snoke’s veiled threat. 

The supreme leader straightens in his throne, holding his head high as he peers down to the two force-users in front of him. “It is settled.” He waves his hand dismissively, gesturing once toward the elevator. “Go to Starkiller Base at once. There’s much work to be done.”

Kylo bends down to grab his helmet, placing the contraption upon his head once more. He turns, the fabric of his cape fluttering momentarily from the sudden movement. Brynne follows him into the elevator in silence.

* * *

The flight to Starkiller Base is far more interesting than Brynne’s journey to the Supremacy. The transport arranged for the commander had windows, to start. 

Brynne supposes that’s one of the many privileges commonfolk like herself are not entitled to.

It is odd, Brynne thinks, to be traveling among the stars after so many years with her feet planted firmly on the ground on Naboo. The stars are infinite and the planets host endless amounts of varied cultures. For someone such as herself, who is no one remarkable by her own standards, to be the one to be plucked from her daily routine and thrown into the midst of all of this is… surreal, for lack of a better word.

Or, some sort of sick joke. 

But surreal works too.

The snowy planet of Ilum, which hosts Starkiller Base, is the exact opposite of what Brynne had been anticipating.

When she had considered miserable planets to visit on the travels that would accompany her training, the desert world of Jakku had been the worst her mind could conjure up. However, the view from her transport’s windows showcases a desolate planet. No color. No cities. Only snow and trees to characterize the monotonous tones of the icy world.

Jakku is beginning to sound nicer and nicer with each passing moment.

“We’ve arrived,” Kylo states plainly as the transport docks into Starkiller Base’s hangar. 

Brynne follows Kylo off the ship as soon as he is ready, and he pauses in front of it as First Order mechanics begin their post-flight check. “You will be escorted by First Order personnel around base,” Kylo says. “You’re not to be unsupervised outside of your quarters without explicit permission.”

Brynne’s brows furrow. “May I ask why?”

Kylo ignores her request, and continues speaking. “A trooper will be arranged to escort you to a meeting tomorrow morning, where you will be introduced to those who will be privy to your existence on base. Until then, remain in your quarters.”

Brynne opens her mouth to ask for further clarification, but Kylo turns away from her. He walks past a stormtrooper stationed at the hangar’s exit. “Take Miss Varel to her quarters.”

With that, he walks away, and leaves Brynne by herself to follow the trooper.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Woah, two chapters two days in a row? That's a big change over here! Lol, it's a bit of a shorter one but it's finally here! The good stuff comes next. If any of this sounded familiar, it was gone over briefly in the prologue. Hope you all enjoyed, regardless!


	5. Subordinate

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Do you have any questions for us, Varel?”  
> Yes, of course she did. Her thoughts hadn’t stopped racing since she had woken up in her quarters that morning, and gotten scared because she didn’t immediately recognize the room. There were a million things Brynne could ask, but none would bring her any comfort.  
> “No.”  
> The red-headed man raised an eyebrow, taking note of Brynne’s curt response. Kylo Ren stared her down for a moment, but accepted her response. “We’ll begin your training immediately, then."

The stars weren’t as pretty up close when you viewed them from a metal prison alongside them in the sky — of that much, Brynne was certain.

But still, a view of the twinkling stars would have been better than that of the snow that surrounded Starkiller Base. Brynne had caught a glimpse of it when entering the First Order’s headquarters, and decided that the lack of color suited the dreariness of the whole ordeal.

A dash of baby blue would have suited the cool toned grays of the planet nicely, but it was safe to say that the First Order had no interest in her design advice. The walls of the hallways would stay sleek and dark, and her quarters would remain windowless and bleak.

It wouldn’t be long until a stormtrooper came along to escort Brynne to the meeting Kylo Ren had spoken of. She had woken an hour or so prior, and for once her lack of sleep could be blamed on stress and anxiety rather than Snoke taking up residency in her mind. 

What little restless slumber she was graced with would have to suffice. The plain, black and gray wardrobe she had been  _ oh so generously _ supplied with would have to suffice. The stiff bed and thin blanket would have to suffice. The one journal she brought with her would have to suffice (provided she kept it hidden from First Order personnel). The sliver of desaturated pink fabric from her favorite dress, and the soon-to-shrivel purple petals of the rominaria flower would have to suffice. 

They were bits of home, and reminders of what was at stake. At the very least, they would exist between the pages of her notebook as potentially-illegal reminders that life existed beyond the snowy, metaphorical walls of Ilum, and beyond the very real metal walls of Starkiller Base. 

Until Kylo Ren got a hold of it, at least. But until then, life existed, both back home on Naboo and on planets unknown to her. 

Life did not exist on Starkiller Base. No one thrived happily, and there were no dreams to chase. There were only cogs in a machine that existed to blindly follow the remnants of a fallen empire.

Brynne was one of those cogs now, so it seemed.

She could write. Vomit out each of the feelings threatening to escape from her throat in a choked sob via words scribbled through one of her new pens. Instead, she swallowed the cry that almost dared to leave her lips. It can wait until another day — another time — when her future was not riding on giving the best impression possible to a table full of stone cold traitors to basic decency and humanity.

What little shred of empathy she felt for Kylo Ren the evening prior had twisted into fear and disdain. A visceral anger and incomprehensible confusion for how someone could help lead such an organization without a second thought. How someone could do it so ruthlessly, so willingly, and with little to no regard for the consequences.

A knock thumped against the door to Brynne's quarters. It would have been a nice courtesy had it not opened mere seconds after, revealing a stormtrooper on the opposite side.

_ “The Commander has summoned you.” _

Brynne swallowed in an attempt to combat her drying mouth, a result of the anxiety that had made its home inside her since she woke up. Kylo Ren didn’t seem like a patient man, and she imagined the others who would be present would be no better. So, she stood and exited the room.

The mechanical door hissed closed behind her as she took her spot by the stormtrooper. They walked quickly, and Brynne struggled to keep up with their twists and turns down corridors. The trooper had little regard for Brynne’s ability to navigate the halls of Starkiller Base, but she expected this much. She wasn’t one to be catered to. She needed to accustom herself to their way of life, not the other way around.

“What will be happening at this meeting?” Brynne asked as she caught up with the stormtrooper.

_ “You will be meeting with First Order personnel.” _

“Why?”

_ “Because the Commander has decided you should.”  _ The voice behind the helmet wasn’t as easy to understand as Brynne would have liked. The modulators would take time to grow used to.

“What will we be speaking about?”

_ “Any questions you have can be directed to the Commander.” _

Brynne had half a mind to attempt to ask another question in a desperate attempt to pry any information out of the stormtrooper, but she knew better. This was not Naboo, where she could talk her way into learning things from family, friends, and neighbors. There were very real consequences to overstepping, possibly dealing with life and death, that Brynne had no intention of learning so soon.

So, she closed her mouth with a frustrated frown as she followed the stormtrooper down one final, long corridor. They made one left turn, and Brynne found herself standing in the doorway of a large, dimly lit room. The walls, table, chairs, and uniforms of those inside were black. Artificial lighting that came from the wall panels illuminated the faces of those within. 

Said faces had turned to look at her emotionlessly, doing nothing more than acknowledging her presence at the room’s entryway. Brynne felt like she was intruding.

_ “Finally,” _ another modulated voice said from the front of the room. The source of the voice stood, and Brynne felt the eyes behind the mask —  _ Kylo Ren _ ’s mask — burning into her own. 

There were no empty seats at the table. Brynne scanned the room’s occupants, noticing stormtroopers in elaborate armor lining the walls. One in particular in complete chrome armor stood to the side of Kylo Ren. People who she assumed were officers or members of importance redirected their attention to the Commander upon hearing him speak.

Though one man — a red-head no older than his mid-thirties, if Brynne was correct — allowed his gaze to linger a few seconds longer. It was brief, but Brynne knew when she was being sized up. He would be scrutinizing her every move, waiting to relish in seeing her make a mistake. She imagined many others were silently doing the same.

“Miss Varel will be training under me for the foreseeable future,” Kylo began. “Supreme Leader Snoke believes she will be a useful asset to the First Order’s mission.”

_ “Will she be training with our troops?”  _ The chrome-clad stormtrooper asked.

“Eventually,” Kylo said. “She requires extensive physical and mental training before that will become a matter of discussion.”

“Are you certain you’re in a position to be taking on an apprentice?” asked the red-headed man to Kylo Ren’s right. His scrutiny of Brynne when she entered the room seemed to be directed at the Commander as well.

The man’s sneer had little to no impact on Kylo. “Are you questioning the Supreme Leader’s orders?” The man did not answer. With such a simple inquiry, Kylo Ren effectively ended the man’s questioning of his capabilities. 

Kylo raised a hand, and summoned Brynne out of the doorway and toward him with a “come hither” motion. Brynne did as she was told, and walked behind the chairs of First Order leaders until she stood a few feet from Kylo Ren. 

“Varel’s existence, both within this base and within the First Order, is confidential. She is not to go anywhere without an escort. Escorts should avoid populated areas, and stick to maintenance and leadership corridors whenever possible. Stormtrooper escorts will take priority, and the troopers chosen will be decided upon at Captain Phasma’s discretion.” 

Brynne made a mental note of the name for who she assumed the chrome-armored trooper was.

“The only exceptions to Phasma’s choices are Phasma herself, General Hux, and myself.”

An officer near the back of the room spoke up. “And Snoke?”

It was safe to say that the officer had spoken out of turn. Even if they hadn’t, it was a silly question. “You will not find the Supreme Leader walking around with my apprentice unless something is incredibly wrong,” Kylo said. His words dripped with annoyance. Brynne did not need to see his expression to know he was struggling to maintain composure. The widening eyes and choked breaths of the First Order officer made this apparent, however brief Kylo’s hold on them was. “If that happens, then the legitimacy of Varel’s escort should be the least of your worries.  Anyone who jeopardizes the integrity of Varel’s training will see severe consequences. Are there any questions?”

The table of leaders did not speak up. Whether it was a result of the Commander’s show of force in response to the previous question he had received, or if they simply needed no further explanation, Brynne was not sure. 

Kylo sat after a moment. “You are dismissed.”

The room quickly cleared out of personnel and stormtroopers, save for Kylo Ren and the two people positioned beside him. Captain Phasma remained standing at the Commander’s side. 

Kylo pulled his hood down, and removed his mask as soon as he was certain the door to the room was closed. He placed the mask upon the dark table in front of him. The impact of metal on metal caused a soft echo within the room. 

“Is it wise to be removing your mask around a subordinate, Commander?” 

“Snoke has already caused your concern to be useless, Captain, but it is appreciated nonetheless,” Kylo said. 

The dynamic between the three was complex, Brynne noted. Captain Phasma had far more leeway to question Kylo Ren’s actions than the other man did. 

Kylo spared Brynne a single glance before gesturing to a seat several spots down from where Phasma stood. “Sit.”

Brynne nodded once before walking behind the Commander and Captain. She’d followed his orders so far; stopping now when he was beside two close confidants wouldn’t have been the smartest of decisions.

“Do either of you have any questions for Miss Varel or myself?” Kylo looked between the two leaders, and allowed his eyes to rest upon the man on his right who had cleared his throat.

“Where are you from,  _ Miss Varel _ ?” His question, however simple, carried weight. Brynne had no intention of leading the First Order back to her family. She knew Snoke was aware of her residence, as well as the troopers who had picked her up from Naboo, but she had no desire to reveal anything beyond the bare minimum to those who were concerned.

Before she could respond, Kylo Ren spoke. “Don’t answer that.”

The man scoffed. “Why ask us if we have questions if your apprentice is not allowed to answer them?”

“If you want to meet the same fate as the troopers who brought Varel here, then be my guest.”

Brynne’s brows furrowed as she attempted to understand the fate of those she met the night prior. Her mouth moved faster than her brain and before she could stop herself, she asked: “What happened to them?”

The three leaders directed their attention to her sudden speech. Stoically, Kylo responded. “Selective memory wipe. The Supreme Leader believed it to be the safest way of making sure knowledge of your existence and whereabouts are kept contained.”

“Their reconditioning began this morning,” Captain Phasma said. “The effort is worth maintaining the confidentiality of this project.”

_ Project. _ Something about the word didn’t sit right with Brynne. Was that all she was to them? Something to be crafted? Something to be designed however they saw fit? It was dehumanizing to mark her down as  _ something _ rather than  _ someone _ , but she should have expected little else. Stormtroopers were hardly people to the First Order — why would she be treated any different?

A headache began to form behind Brynne’s eyes, far worse than any she had ever experienced at the hands of Snoke. It bounced along the sides of her skull, snuck around the wrinkles of her brain, and pulled toward the direction of the Commander. Gritting her teeth, Brynne looked to Kylo Ren, meeting his eyes. 

He looked away, and the headache left almost as soon as it had appeared.

“Will Miss Varel’s physical training prepare her for close-quarters combat, or will it be a precursor to her force training?” 

Captain Phasma’s modulated voice caused Kylo Ren to return his attention to her once more. “Both. I plan to begin with close quarters training, and transition to a routine that includes periodic force training once she’s prepared. Regardless, she’ll be training both her close quarters combat and force abilities with your troopers when the time comes.”

“Very well,” Phasma said.

Kylo looked toward his apprentice. If she was nervous — she was — then she didn’t show it. 

“Do you have any questions for  _ us _ , Varel?”

Yes, of course she did. Her thoughts hadn’t stopped racing since she had woken up in her quarters that morning, and gotten scared because she didn’t immediately recognize the room. There were a million things Brynne could ask, but none would bring her any comfort.

“No.”

The red-headed man raised an eyebrow, taking note of Brynne’s curt response. Kylo Ren stared her down for a moment, but accepted her response. “We’ll begin your training immediately, then.” He rose from his seat at the front of the table, and placed his mask back upon his head. “Varel, you’ll follow me. Hux and Phasma, you are dismissed.”

_ Hux _ . That’s who the other man was. Brynne could have put the context clues together, but with so many people initially present she didn’t want to assume.

So much for a proper introduction to the personnel.

Brynne followed Kylo out of the room, and back down the hall. The two were silent as they navigated the corridors to their destination. Brynne tried her best to follow Kylo’s lead and look directly ahead as they walked. No eyes wandering over her surroundings, and no drawing attention to herself. Several stormtroopers made a conscious effort to avoid the Commander as he made his presence known throughout the halls. 

Perhaps Kylo being Brynne’s guide was the one surefire way to keep Brynne a secret within the First Order. No one would see her around Starkiller Base if they all went out of their way to avoid the Commander’s path. 

Several minutes and two elevator rides passed before the pair make it to their training quarters. “There will be a change of clothes waiting for you inside, and I’ve arranged for some to be delivered to your quarters for the future,” Kylo said. “I will be back in five minutes to begin. Make sure you’re presentable.”

Before Brynne could respond, Kylo Ren walked away. She turned, entering the room and allowing the mechanical metal door to close behind her. 

Sure enough, a neatly folded change of clothes was waiting for her on a bench. Brynne glanced around the room, looking for a spot to change but to no avail. She sighed, begrudgingly pulling off her top and placing it on the bench. 

Some more privacy wouldn’t have hurt, but at least she had five minutes to herself.

Once she had changed into her training gear, Brynne took the time to fold her other clothes nicely and placed them in a neat pile upon the bench. 

Brynne preferred light, warm toned clothes. But once again, the First Order did not care about her color preferences. The black training gear would have to suffice, much like everything else.

A loud knock on the metal door startled Brynne briefly. After a moment, Kylo Ren stepped inside, carrying a handful of what looked to be an assortment of marbles. “These are for later in your training. Do not touch them.”

Brynne nodded and watched as Kylo made his way to the bench on the opposite wall. Quickly, he removed his mask and placed it on a single pedestal in the corner. Running a gloved hand through his hair, he shrugged off his hooded cape and dropped it unceremoniously on the bench. His shirt came soon after, which prompted Brynne to look away. 

“We’ll begin with simple combat training to see how your reflexes are.” Kylo tossed a wooden sparring staff to Brynne. She rushed to catch it, but it nearly slipped from her fingers. 

Unimpressed, Kylo sighed as he removed his gloves and dropped them onto his pile of clothes. “Do you have any experience with close-quarters co —” Kylo stopped mid-sentence, shaking his head. “Nevermind. We both know you don’t.”

Kylo grabbed his own staff, and positioned himself into a defensive stance, waiting for Brynne to do the same. She followed, silently, and waited for instruction.

Kylo rushed forward, knocking his staff with her own. The impact sent Brynne falling backward onto the floor. “ _ Ow…” _

Kylo offered Brynne a hand, and pulled her back onto your feet. “You need to learn how to ask questions. If you don’t talk to me then we won’t make any progress.”

“Sorry, Commander,” Brynne said. 

Kylo nodded. “Try again.” He resumed his earlier stance, holding the staff with both hands in front of him. “You need to anticipate my attack, and block it. Just push back at me when I’m about to hit your staff.”

“Got it,” Brynne said. 

Unfortunately, she still didn’t quite have a grasp on it yet. The impact of his hit caused Brynne to stumble back, and nearly drop the staff as she attempted to find a sense of balance.

Kylo Ren wasn’t a patient man. Brynne did not have to be told this to be aware of it. So with each failed attempt at blocking one of Kylo’s attacks, she grew more and more nervous. 

As she laid on her back, trying to catch her breath from her closest attempt at keeping Kylo’s attacks at bay, she felt the familiar tug from within her skull that had introduced itself at the meeting only an hour prior. Hissing in pain, Brynne sat up as she massaged her forehead.

“Why you?” Kylo asked.

“What?”

“Why you?” He repeated. “Out of all of the people in the galaxy, Snoke has chosen to put his faith in someone who can’t block a simple attack.”

Tears brimmed the corners of Brynne’s eyes as the tug from within her skull intensified. “I don’t know what you’re doing, but I’ll answer your questions if you stop.”

The tug disappeared, leaving a dull and pulsing ache in its wake. “You’re difficult to get information from.”

“What was that?” Brynne asked.

“Mind probe,” Kylo stated plainly. “You’ll have to learn how to block before you attempt it.”

Kylo’s dig toward Brynne’s difficulty training was not lost on her. “I don’t want to learn something like that,” she said.

“We’ll discuss it when the time comes,” Kylo said, dismissing Brynne’s opinion. “I’ll ask again. Why you?”

Brynne brought herself back onto her feet, and picked up the sparring staff. “I don’t know.” 

Kylo narrowed his gaze at Brynne, but she continued. “ _ Seriously _ , I don’t know why Snoke wanted me, of all people. I’m just as confused by it as you are.”

“Surely he didn’t come to you out of nowhere,” Kylo said.

Brynne shook her head. “No, he didn’t. I don’t know how long he knew of me, but it was long enough to cause a problem.”

“A problem?”

“He gave me an ultimatum: come willingly or by force.”

“I take it you’re not here by force.”

“No,” Brynne said. “I’m not. But that doesn’t mean I wanted this.”

Brynne’s demeanor had taken a complete turn from where it was when meeting with the First Order personnel. Rather than quietly accepting directions and hoping no one tried to pry into her past, she was handing Kylo Ren any information he asked for. It wasn’t much, but it was more than she’d intended to give up. She imagined the opportunity to speak so candidly with him wasn’t often given, but held little pride in the one being able to do so.

“And why should I train someone who doesn’t want to be here?” Kylo asked.

“Because Snoke demanded it,” Brynne said.

Kylo was silent for a moment. “Fair enough,” he said. He turned around, moving across the room to place his sparring staff in the corner. 

Seeing an opportunity for an attack, Brynne grasped her staff tightly and rushed toward Kylo. WIthout turning around, he raised a hand to freeze Brynne in place. He continued across the room, placed his staff where it belonged, and turned around to face his embarrassed and frustrated apprentice. “Did you even think that through?” 

Kylo waved his hand to the side once, and Brynne fell to her knees on the floor. “Seemed like an opening.”

“In a silent room where I can hear you running across the floor?”

Brynne had to admit, she hadn’t considered the logistics of her plan. “Didn’t really think about that.”

The ghost of a smirk tugged at Kylo’s lips, but it was gone as soon as Brynne noticed it. “Sit.”

Brynne slid off her knees and into a cross-legged position on the floor. Kylo walked to his pile of clothes on the bench, and pulled on his gloves. “You need to connect with the force. Regular meditation will help you during your training, but hopefully it can start by giving you some common sense.”

Once again, his dig was not lost on Brynne. Rather than test her luck in an attempt to see how candid the pair could be, Brynne did not respond to the small insult. “How do I do that?” 

Kylo donned his shirt once again, and turned away from Brynne. “You’ll figure it out.”

Incredulous confusion clouded Brynne’s face. “What does that mean?”

Kylo walked past Brynne as he headed toward the door. “You’ll know when it happens.”

Before she could attempt to ask for clarification again, Kylo exited the room and Brynne was left alone.

* * *

Brynne wasn’t sure how much time had passed by the time a knock at the door startled her from her attempt at meditation. She stood, gathering her clothes from earlier in the day before meeting the stormtrooper that stood outside.

_ “Sorry for interrupting, Miss Varel. The Commander has requested that you return to your quarters for the rest of the day.” _

Brynne frowned. “You didn’t interrupt. I was just sitting there, to be honest.”

The stormtrooper did not reply as they guided Brynne out of the training quarters, and through the halls of Starkiller Base. Without Kylo Ren leading the way, Brynne noticed that people did not immediately search for a way out of their path. She assumed everyone she walked past was meant to be privy to her existence, as Kylo emphasized the importance of secrecy that morning. 

Right on time, the First Order’s commander turned down the hall toward Brynne and the stormtrooper just as she was thinking of him. Non-essential presences in the hallway ducked into nearby rooms upon noticing his presence. Even those who lingered made their way toward an elevator or exit when they noticed the equally-as-menacing men who followed closely behind the masked man, wielding large weapons and sporting masks of their own.

Brynne made sure not to look at the Commander or those who followed his path down the hall. As he got closer and closer, Brynne felt the horrible tug from within her skull manifest yet again. Her expression hardened as she made the effort to keep the pain from reflecting on her face. 

_ Didn’t I tell him to stay out? _

Kylo and his followers walked past Brynne, and as soon as they did the pain within her skull subsided. Brynne blinked away a few tears, struggling to ignore the ache in her skull as she continued with the stormtrooper on the silent journey back to her quarters.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Back at it with the chapters again! This semester was super rough, but it's over and I have a month free to write, so yay!! Also, I made a Tumblr where I want to talk about Star Wars, Brynne's story, and share some art of her. If you want to follow it, the handle is lyriumsaber!!


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